Release Me
by rippingbutterflywings
Summary: The story about a girl, a boy, and two families full of secrets, secrets they would do anything to keep. It is a story about falling in love, trying to forget about love, and holding on to the memories you can't afford to forget. OOC. AH/AU
1. Chapter 1

**Heey guys! So, this idea has been bothering me for awhile. At first, I thought: I should make it a one shot! Why the hell not? But then this whole background came to me, and I knew I had no choice. ;) It will be OOC, by the way.**

**Thanks to maxwaylandgrey for being my beta for this story :3 You be AWESOME.**

**Let me know what you guys think!**

_Could you be the one to release me? (Oh release me)__  
><em>_Waiting for your love, __  
><em>_Oh to free me, so release me_

Clary sat in the back of her mother's minivan, the most casual car she owned. One she didn't even have the nerve to drive. She had to send her boyfriend, Luke, to pick her daughter up at the airport. Clary doubted her mom's ability to care for her more often than not, and she would let her know more than enough times this summer. This summer would be hell, and this car ride was her ticket to it.

She watched as the mountains disappeared, watched them become silhouettes, black shadows she glanced back at. She didn't want them to disappear, because the farther away from the mountains they got, the closer they got to the beach, where her mother's house is—her new beach house. Clary wished she could get away from this car and from where it was taking her. The mountains, however dangerous, seemed like a great escape. She could just run free; free of her mother and her expectations, free of the fancy drinks and the parties and galas her mom went to every night.

"We're here," said Luke, craning his neck sideways to look at Clary, who just stared at the house—her mother's beach house—like she had just arrived to hell.

And, in her opinion, it was true. The house just needed a sign that said "WELCOME TO HELL" and it'd be perfect.

Hastily, she opened the car door and stepped outside. This was California, which meant she would see typical blondies running around with their freaking tanned, skinny bodies, waiting for an equally perfect person of the opposite sex to feel them up. Clary rolled her eyes, the car's mirror reflecting what she wore: black hoodie, black pants, and her beat-up converse. Her flaming red hair didn't exactly give her the look she was going for, but she refused to dye it. Her untamable curls flew all around her face every time a gust of warm, humid wind blew. She was too pale for this place. All in all, her appearance didn't make her fit in, not that she wanted to. But her mother would hate it. Clary smirked at the thought.

"Come on," Luke said, materializing in front of her. He didn't look like the type to go out with her mom. But, then again, Luke had known her for a long time. He remembered the times when she was nice, when she brightened up their glum days, when she baked cookies and hugged Clary tightly and said she was her baby girl. Clary missed her mom—that version of her, at least. Minus the baby girl part because, well, the thought of her mom calling her "baby girl" when she was about to turn sixteen made her cringe.

"My things are still on the back of the car," Clary said to Luke, snapping herself out of it. Remembering the old times wasn't worth anything. Her old mother vanished long ago. No one knew what happened—it was sudden. After a phone call. Since that day, she hadn't been the same again.

"Clary," Luke said, his tone suggesting that she was asking the most ridiculous question. "We have a butler."  
><em><br>__Right,_ she thought sourly. _Of course you do.__  
><em>  
>The beach house was huge. Not huge like their home in New York City—one that could hold more than fifty people if they wanted to stay over—but still huge. This house had three floors. It looked almost like a hotel building with its countless windows facing everywhere. The house was fairly new. After getting kicked out of her last boarding school in Montana, her mother decided it was time to bond; spend some time together and away from the city. Clary had to agree, since she was given no choice. If she didn't go spend a summer with her mom, she would be spending the rest of her life in some military school.<p>

Luke led her inside as if he knew the place by heart. Clary frowned, wondering how many other houses her mom kept hidden away from her. After all, they hadn't exactly communicated since . . . Well, since her mother became distant, and Clary learned to deal.

Inside, the house was beautiful. So unlike a beach house it irritated Clary that her mother called it that. Or, even more, it irritated her that it didn't look like a beach house, even though it should. Little things, Clary thought, made her mother who she was before. She used to label things, make them all distinct. When she changed, it was like everything blurred and because the same. Like it didn't matter anymore. The house was decorated more like a palace, with a chandelier lamp hanging from above, its twinkling crystals welcoming Clary to her home. The floors were tiled as fancily as the ones in every other one of her houses. Everything was white and gold and red, instead of green and blue and yellow, as she imagined beach houses should look like. Clary shook her head.

"Clary!" a voice called from upstairs, a voice that sounded too happy to be sober, too high to be real. It was fake, and nasal, and it reeked of alcohol. Clary knew all of this, even the reeking part, before she got close to the woman looking down at her.

Her mother descended the stairs carefully, step by step, high heels clacking against the marble floor. She wore a skirt that was good enough for a woman her age, a lacy blouse as a top, a blazer over it, dark red hair in a bun.

That was Jocelyn Fairchild.

"Jocelyn," Clary replied, voice empty.

"I'm your mother, so you call me that." Jocelyn eyed her daughter up and down. "Stand up straighter. And do you really still have that thing on your nose?" She shook her head at her daughter.

"Mom," Clary said through gritted teeth, "it's just a nose ring." One that she had gotten the night before her mother sent her to Montana. Her mother had cursed on her a million times, saying it didn't look proper, but Clary refused to take her ring off.

"Clarissa, that's what ears are for." Jocelyn placed her hands carefully on her daughter's back, taking deep breaths as if it could calm her down and make her forget the fact that she regretted asking her daughter to come.

"I don't like earrings." Clary shrugged. Somehow, making her mom miserable made Clary feel more at home with the place.

"Tomorrow night, I want it off. At least for the night," Jocelyn said, glaring at the ring as if it had a soul and the glare hurt its feelings.

"What's tomorrow?"

"Social event. We are going to the Lightwood residence. You better look nice," Jocelyn threatened. With that, she stormed off, muttering something about not having a dress.

Clary saw the butler storm past her—or try to, at least. He couldn't walk as fast as her.

"I'll take it," she said, motioning to her suitcase. The butler started to object, but Clary cut him off by saying: "I insist." He let out an exasperated sigh and nodded finally. She smiled shyly and gratefully, however she mustered that, gathered her stuff, and started making her way up the stairs.

_One summer,_ she told herself. _Just one summer._

/ 

Jace woke up with a pounding head and a frown. Before he opened his eyes, he knew what had happened the night before, and he liked it. He liked it too much, but he was going to regret it today, and how could he forget today? Last night was a pre-party, him getting ready to show off his girlfriend, Kaelie, who lay naked under the bed sheets, to the whole world—or, at least, the people in it that counted for his parents—adoptive parents, he reminded himself. The Lightwoods were like his parents, but not his real ones, because those were dead or some shit like that. He didn't know.

He didn't even want to think. Everything hurt—moving his eyes. He decided to go back to sleep with a groan, so he lay down by Kaelie's side again and closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come to him easily, but no such luck. His frown and bad mood worsened as he realized he'd have to dress up, and he fucked up his last good suit the night before. He wore it for the hell of pissing off his parents. But, now, eyeing the very expensive suit that lay on the floor, the one that cost a fortune and now had alcohol spilled all over it mixed with what seemed like vomit, it seemed like he needed a new one.

Kaelie stirred by his side. "Jace?" she mumbled.

"Kaelie," he replied evenly. He didn't even like her that much. She was just hot, good in bed, and the kind of girl his parents approved of—at least in public, anyway. She was so damn annoying and clingy. He didn't know how much it'd last—he didn't even want it to last.

"Are you mad?" She sat up straighter, then raised a hand to her forehead and moaned. "What happened last night?"

"What do you think?" he asked pointedly, rolling out of bed before she could start anything. He was not in the mood, not at all—especially not for her stupidity.

"What?" She sounded angry then. "What'd I do now?"

"Nothing, Kaelie. I'm just naturally pissed off at . . . life," he replied, before saying something he'd regret later. "You should get going. Big event tonight."

She rolled out of bed and walked up to him, clinging to him like a puppy, hands touching places that shouldn't have been touched. "I like it when you're mad. It's sexy."

"It's annoying, and it doesn't feel sexy to me, so get out." He waited for her to obey her. She took her hands off of him, kissed him, and stormed out of the room. She was still wearing only her underwear, but his family was used to it. They liked her—or at least they faked it. They didn't mind.

After Kaelie left, he put on a clean shirt, brushed his teeth, and ran a hand through his hair. With that done, he stormed down the stairs. His breakfast was ready before he arrived, everything he wanted. He swallowed the damn plate whole, complaining about how hungry he was the whole time. Isabelle watched him, amused.

"Does this always happen after sex?"

"For me? Nah," Jace said. "I'm naturally hungry."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Everything's natural, I get it. Are you ready for tonight?"

"No," he admitted. "Haven't got a new suit."

"Why do you need another one?" Isabelle asked. She gave him a once-over, and then said: "Oh, shit. Dad's gonna kill you."

"No shit, Sherlock," Jace snapped just as Alec strolled down the stairs, past him, and into the kitchen.

"Hello to you too," said Isabelle. "Why is everyone being so rude?"

"We don't like you," Jace said, finished his juice, and stood up to leave. He looked at Isabelle. "Help me shop?"

"In your dreams." She snorted.

"Shop for what?" Alec asked, leaning over curiously.

"A new suit," Isabelle said before Jace could open his mouth. "The last one has been in places I don't even want to know. He wore it last night."

"Oh," Alec said knowingly. Did everyone know about last night?

"Okay, well," Jace said, "if anyone wants to be awesome enough to help, I'll be up in my room. Until then, the event is cancelled for me."

"You can't do that!" Isabelle said, outraged.

"Watch me," Jace mouthed, and then ran up the stairs and into his room. Of course he couldn't stop it, but he loved messing with Izzy.

He cleaned up his room as best he could, leaving a few bottles thrown around. It gave him his reputation, which no one had clarified enough yet. He sighed, thinking of tonight's event. He really, _really_ didn't want Kaelie to be his girlfriend. Really. He'd date Isabelle over her, and that was saying a lot more than he wanted to say.

A knock on his door snapped him out of a daze he hadn't noticed he was on.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"It's me," said Maryse, his adoptive mother. Jace walked over to the door lazily and opened it, trying to look bored and spoiled.

"Good morning," Jace said.

"Jace." Maryse said his name like an annoyed sigh. "Clean up the room. There'll be people coming. Jocelyn Fairchild with her soon-to-be husband and her daughter—they're coming, too. They're old family friends. I want you to be nice, well dressed, and polite."

"Fine," he replied. "I told you I would be."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "There is something else. May I?"

He didn't get it until she was inside his room, shutting the door behind her. She sniffed, scrunched up her nose in disgust, and made a few disagreeing comments before getting to the point, and Jace was relieved to hear it.

"I don't want your girlfriend here tonight."

"Why not?"

"She's too . . . slutty." She didn't sound comfortable using the word. "She's not appropriate for a gala."

Jace didn't mind the idea of his girlfriend staying home, but he had a doubt, so he asked, "Wasn't the whole point of this to show her off?"

Maryse sighed, reconsidered her words, and nodded. "You're right. Bring her. But she better be wearing something nice," she warned, and with those words, she was out the door.

_Can't wait_, Jace thought sourly. Without another thought about Kaelie, he finished cleaning up. He called one of his many butlers, one called Charles, and ordered him to get him a coat. After giving him the measurements, he hung up and waited. He watched TV. And then he called Kaelie, when he got really bored.

"Hey, babe," she purred.

"Maryse said you need to wear something nice. Something decent," he added, wondering what the word nice meant to her when it came to clothing.

"Like what?" she asked, and Jace could practically see her furrowed brow, trying to figure out what decent clothing was. He shook his head.

"I'll be there in twenty," he said, hung up, and got dressed. Newly ready, he called Charles again and ordered for his suit to be taken to Kaelie's house. He gave the address, hung up the phone, got into his car, and drove to his girlfriend's house.

The California weather wasn't one Jace appreciated. Being from New York, he was used to cold weather. But his parents had insisted on going to their beach house for the summer, and he had no choice but to fly over there with them. Two days after his arrival, he hooked up with Kaelie. He didn't know why, and he didn't remember much. He remembered a club, a bunch of drinks, her blonde hair and her annoying voice. And the sex.

That he remembered.

He shook his head. He couldn't believe how amazing she'd been. California girls lived up to their reputation. Before Jace could even taste another girl, not even feel her up, Kaelie kept showing up, over and over, and he knew she thought they were together. His parents liked her at first—her parents were rich people, as rich as his parents—but they changed their minds later on. Jace didn't blame them.

He was in front of her house—her apartment, that is. Her parents lived in San Francisco, and she came to LA looking for more action.

"They said LA people partied more," she'd explained to him once with a shrug.

Whoever said that didn't lie.

Her apartment was fairly small. She bought it with her own money, apparently—money that had come from her dad, because she sure as hell didn't work. He knocked on her door. One annoyingly long minute later, she was there, twirling her hair with her fingers and wearing only her underwear.

"Damn it, Kaelie," he said, pushing past her. She turned him on, but he didn't let it show. "We need to find you a dress, not have sex in the middle of your living room." He heard the door close.

Kaelie stood in front of him in a flash. She held out her arms and placed them in his chest roughly, grabbing his shirt with her fists. She pushed him into the sofa. He grunted softly, but not because of the pain. Only a little bit because of the pain. Mostly because she was taking his pants off while rubbing herself all over him, and he liked it, but he also knew that he meant business that day. She, however, just wanted the sex.

He sighed. He didn't protest as she took his clothes off. He definitely didn't protest when she grabbed both of his hands and placed them on her bare boobs, then continued to trail them down until he had to do the work himself. Then, when he was feeling more like the old him, he pushed her down to the floor. She moaned the minute he was inside her.

The sex ended quickly. It lasted about ten minutes, maximum. Jace was glad. He wasn't angry anymore, but he had to act like it.

"Happy?" he said, sounding as annoyed as he could muster. He was tired. Damn it.

"Yes," Kaelie said, her voice giggly. She started touching him everywhere, making him shut his eyes. He swatted her hand off after he had enough, put on his clothes, and told her to do the same, voice hard.

"Let's see," Kaelie said, running a hand through her clothing. Most of her shirt exposed everything except her boobs. Her dresses . . . Jace didn't want to think about those.

This was disastrous.

He found a semi-decent dress, one that looked like something Isabelle might wear. It was long, long enough to cover everything. It was a dark purple, a shade he actually appreciated. It had a V-neck, which was the only problem, but not really. He wanted her to look sophisticated, not like a fucking nun.

"I wore this to my Dad's wedding," she said, her voice soft—but still annoying. Jace faked a look of sympathy and awe or whatever face it was that guys in those cheesy movies made. She bought it, smiling at him, nodding eagerly when he asked her to try it on.

She looked decent, her blonde hair contrasting nicely with the color of the dress. He smiled, pleased with his choice. And he knew he was going to love slipping the dress out of her.

He walked over to her. "Don't wear anything underneath," he whispered in her ear, and then he headed out the door, but not before winking.

He deserved a fucking Oscar.


	2. Chapter 2

**Heeey, people! ;) I hope you're liking this story. It's really fun to write. Thanks to MaxWaylandGrey for beta'ing and, again, congrats on finishing RS! ;) Thanks to SportyNo1 for being awesome and my friend. ;D**

**Review? :) **

* * *

><p>"Tonight's the night."<p>

Jocelyn's words repeated themselves in Clary's mind like a broken record. _Tonight's the night_. She didn't want it to come, but she wanted it to be over with. She wanted to meet the Lightwoods, tell them it was a fucking pleasure to meet them, and get out of the damn house, back to the loneliness of her room.

She sighed. Sadly, that wasn't quite how it worked. She'd have to wear high heels and a pretty (but very uncomfortable) dress, act nice, meet old people, eventually a cute boy—and that was only a maybe. She didn't want that. She wanted to listen to her iPod all day, lie in bed, and forget everyone else existed.

Someone knocked on her door.

"The dress is here!" Dorothea, one of her servants, announced happily.

"Thank you," she said. Just because her mother didn't thank them or felt like they were worth anything meant Clary had to do the same.

"No problem." Dorothea was one of the servants Clary didn't like, but she was still polite to her, because she wasn't about to break her rule.

Clary shut the door behind her and unzipped the black bag. Sighing, she walked over to the bathroom and slipped it on. Then, she walked back to her bed. Instead of falling onto it, like she wanted to, Clary stared at her reflection on the mirror in front of her bed. Her dress was olive green, the kind of green that made her hair look alive. It had small, purple beads on the bottom. They swirled around the dress, reminding her of the wind in some ways. She smiled. The dress was pretty. It wasn't too uncomfortable, but she had to wear these really tall purple heels.

She_ hated_ those heels.

"Clary!" Jocelyn said, standing by her door. Clary forgot to lock it when she brought in the dress. She cursed at herself mentally. "You look wonderful! Where are the heels?"

"Give me a damn second, will you?" She walked over to her closet and pulled out a pair of purple high heels with beads similar to the ones her dress had. She slipped them on.

They were going to hurt like hell.

Her mother inspected her, eyeing her up and down until she found something wrong. "Take the ring off."

"No." One word, a word Clary was going to pay hell for, but she wasn't taking it off.

"I said: take it off."

"It stays on, or I don't go." Clary shrugged.

"TAKE. IT. OFF."

"NO."

"What's going on?" said Luke, standing in the doorway.

"She insists on keeping the damn nose ring on." Jocelyn threw her hands up in frustration.

"Let her keep it, then." His voice was soothing.

"She does NOT look proper with it on."

"At least she's here. She's trying," Luke said, pleading her to let it go. "Please, let's just try to have a good time." He looked at Clary, then at Jocelyn. "Please?"

Jocelyn looked into his eyes. Slowly, she nodded. When she looked at Clary, the look in her mother's eyes told her she was paying for it later.

When her mother exited the room—with a huff—Clary walked up to Luke. "Thanks. Really."

"Just try to behave tonight," he said, running a hand through his hair. It didn't have gel in it yet, but Clary suspected it'd have way too much of it later.

"I will. Thanks," she called after him, but he was already halfway down the stairs. Clary furrowed her brows, shut her door, and did her makeup and hair. It was pretty simple: curled hair, up in a bun with a few loose strands. Her makeup consisted of purple eye shadow, mascara, a bit of foundation, some reddish blush, and lip gloss. She looked good—but what did she know?

She took the small, purple purse her mother gave her the day before. Inside, she placed her iPhone, twenty bucks, the lip gloss tube, and tissues, for some reason. She snapped her purse shut, then reopened it so she could take her phone out and listen to music.

_She's got all my dreams,__  
><em>_I've got these broken things,__  
><em>_And they always disagree.__  
><em>_But if there's one real thing,__  
><em>_you would choose to believe,__  
><em>_just don't lose your faith in me.__  
><em>_She's got broken things,__  
><em>_where her heart should be,__  
><em>_and I keep rolling them over in my head.__  
><em>_Made my voice brand new,__  
><em>_I give it all to you,__  
><em>_and I'll never speak again.__  
><em>  
>She didn't know why, but this song always made her feel like it described her life. Nobody knew her like the man in this song knew the girl he sang about, but she wished, deep down, that someone did. There was always Simon, who was getting to LA in a week. But not like this. Never like this. She closed her eyes and listened to the singer's soft voice talk about the girl.<p>

_Lord, I've been trading places,__  
><em>_With the ghost in me,__  
><em>_And it's starting to make me sick.__  
><em>_But if there's one real thing,__  
><em>_I could choose to believe,__  
><em>_Just a little hope would do the trick._

_She's got broken things,__  
><em>_where her heart should be,__  
><em>_but I can tell there are moments,  
>when I'm really getting through.<em>_  
><em>_Made my voice brand new,__  
><em>_I give it all to you,__  
><em>_And I'll never speak again._

_She'll be in magazines,__  
><em>_with all her fancy things,__  
><em>_And all the boys will dream,__  
><em>_If you think this was easy,__  
><em>_You're wrong._

Clary listened to the boy talk about his girl; the girl whom Clary assumed stole his heart. She wondered if she'd ever steal a guy's heart, take his breath away. But she doubted it.

"Clary! We're gonna be late!" Jocelyn yelled from downstairs. Clary took her headphones out of her ears, wrapped the cord around her iPhone, and shoved it in her small purse. She heard it click shut and didn't waste any time running down the stairs.

After all, they couldn't afford being late, could they?

Clary fisted her skirt in her hands and walked down the stairs. She knew her mother and Luke would be waiting there, eyeing her over, inspecting how she looked.

"I hate the nose ring," Jocelyn muttered.

Clary shrugged at her mom, acting like she didn't give a flying fuck about her words, mostly because she didn't. Her mother went into the limousine first, then Luke, then Clary, who sat by the window, headphones on. She watched the rain fall, little droplets that connected and separated on the window. She made a story, a story that told life and death with them.

She was pathetic, and she knew it.

"We're here." Jocelyn's voice woke her up. She didn't realize she had fallen asleep until she realized her head rested against the window. She probably ruined her hair.

"Come on," Jocelyn said. "Let me see." Her mother double-checked her hair, patted it saying, "You're fine," before exiting the car, leaving Clary no choice but to follow.

The house they went to was similar to their own; chandeliers hung from the roof, all twinkling and sparkling like they owned the place. Clary smirked at the similarity.

A woman and a man she didn't recognize walked over to them. They both had black hair, both tall, beautiful.

"Welcome to the house," the woman said, kissing Jocelyn's and Luke's cheeks. Then she turned to Clary and gasped. "This must be Clary?" When Jocelyn nodded, Maryse said to Clary, "You're beautiful, darling. My name is Maryse, by the way, and this is my husband Robert." She placed an arm on his shoulder to bring him back to earth, since he seemed to be staring off into nothingness.

"Thank you. It's nice to meet you," Clary replied, a blush creeping to her cheeks.

"Nice to meet you," said the man.

"Very pleased to meet you," Maryse said, giving me a quick hug before turning around. "I'll introduce the kids later. Right now, I have to go see if everything's in order. I'm glad you could make it, Jocelyn—you and your family. Have fun!" With that, she disappeared through the crowd.

The house was full of people—hundreds of people, all chattering. The music was low enough so that they could listen to each other, but high enough to make the place classy. Clary shook her head and grabbed her mother's arm.

"I'm going to get some air," Clary announced. Without waiting for her mother's response, she set off, desperately walking through the groups of people, suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

She went to the bathroom, the first half-empty space she could find. They actually had a bathroom with more than one stall. Clary shook her head and stood in front of a mirror. The tight bun her hair was in was giving her a headache. Knowing her mother was going to kill her for it later—but still not caring enough to stop herself—she unpinned her hair carefully and let it fall naturally. The curls—more like ringlets, at least that night—looked amazing, even better, now that they were against the dress. She placed the bobby pins inside her purse, snapped it shut, and walked outside.

She decided to go find a balcony, someplace she could get some air. The exit was the only one. That wouldn't look very nice, and she knew it, but she didn't have much of a choice. She burst through the guarded exit doors and let the cool, yet humid air of the night take her away. It smelled of rain, her favorite scent.

There were marble steps laid out in front of her, and she sank into the first one, ignoring the stares of the guards. The way they stood made her realize that no one—or no one important enough—would be coming now.

But she was wrong.

"Kaelie," an angry male voice said from the distance. Clary scanned the area, looking for a person, but all she saw was two shadows. "I told you not to wear as much perfume. And you're wearing hooker heels."

"I am not," she said, huffing.

"You are," the male voice said. He spotted Clary, and that was when she saw him. He was breathtakingly beautiful, and when his golden eyes met hers, she wanted to melt into them. His hair was blonde, shaggily cut, and he had something scruffy about him, something that made him sexier. Clary bit her lip.

"That girl," he said, pointing at me, "will help."

"Me?" Clary said, barking out a laugh. "And why should I?"

"Because this is my house," the guy said simply.

"Doubtful."

"But true," he added, a smirk clearly visible on his face.

"Fine," she said, hoisting herself up. Standing up was not easy, especially when she was wearing a long dress and too-high heels. She walked down the stairs with as much grace as she could muster. "What do you want?"

"Do these shoes," Kaelie said, "look like hooker heels?" She lifted her dress slightly, revealing black pumps that did NOT, in any way, match her outfit.

Clary sighed and said, "Yeah. They do. Now, if you'll excuse me . . ."

"What's your name?" the boy's voice said from the front of the steps.

Clary smiled wickedly at him. "You'll have to find out."

/

"Are we going in or not?" Jace snapped at Kaelie once again. He knew she was going to cry, and he honestly didn't care, not really. He was being an idiot, and he knew it, but he told her what to wear—specifically told her. Wasn't picking the dress enough? He sighed loudly, took her hand, and burst inside his mansion.

Hundreds of eyes turned their way.

"This is my son, Jace," announced Maryse from beside him. How had she gotten there? "And this is his girlfriend, Kaelie."

The crowd applauded. Jace found himself looking for the redhead without a name, yet he didn't find anything. As he turned around, he caught a glimpse of red. He whirled around, dragging a very wide-eyed Kaelie with him, and there she was, the nameless girl. She wore a permanent smirk on her face every time she looked at him.

"Jace," Maryse said. "I would like to introduce you to Jocelyn Fairchild and her daughter, Clary. This is her soon-to-be husband, Luke." Jace shook hands with Luke and gave both Jocelyn and Clary a hug. When he hugged Clary, it was the weirdest thing.

"Nice meeting you," he said, and then he turned away and dragged Kaelie with him.

"What the hell is your problem?" she hissed.

"Nothing," he said through gritted teeth. He didn't know. It was something about the redhead.

"It's her," Kaelie said, and for the first time, Jace could see her brain working to find the answers, to fill in the blanks. "She's got you all worked up." Kaelie looked as betrayed as she felt. Jace tried to hide a smirk—or a grin, he didn't know which, because the whole thing was funny but he had to stay serious, for the sake of both of their sanities.

"I don't know her," Jace told her as he tried to convince himself of the same thing. He didn't know her. He had no reason to be mad or pissed or whatever the hell he was feeling. He raked a hand through his hair, waving at random people as he passed them.

"Are you sure?" Kaelie asked, but she still let herself be dragged by him. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere quiet. Somewhere lonely." _Somewhere we can have sex in. _

"Hurry up," she said, voice urgent, like this was all she'd been waiting for the whole time. And, for all Jace knew, it probably was.

He found a secret passageway, one that led to the basement, and locked themselves in it. He backed her up against a wall and fumbled with her dress zipper. She helped him, legs shaking, breathing urgent, and the dress was off. Jace grinned, pleased. She hadn't worn anything underneath it. Jace kneeled in front of her, running his lips up, up, up, everywhere, not missing a single space, sucking where it was required, until his lips met hers.

He took his suit off—the new one, the goddamn expensive one that Charles bought him—and threw it on the floor, still feeling her up, digging his fingers into her skin. She kept moaning and yelling his name, and eventually he had to cover her mouth with his hand while doing his work with the other. She kept undressing him until they were both backed up against a wall, naked, and just when Jace was getting inside her, when Kaelie was getting ready to scream his name, begging him to stop but never meaning it, someone knocked on the door. Kaelie opened her mouth to speak, but Jace tightened his grip on it.

"Hello?" It was her. Jace knew it. Her voice was small, like a child's, but it held a confidence that wasn't cocky, but well-deserved.

Jace's breath quickened, his heart beat faster, and Kaelie noticed. She glared at him under his grip.

"I'm coming in, you know. Whoever you are," she said. "Or maybe I'm talking to myself, finally insane."

"Get out," Jace barked before she could open the door, his voice raspy, needy. He needed to finish what he started with Kaelie.

"Jace?" Clary sounded surprised. "You could at least have sex in a bedroom. A bed is more comfortable than the floor. Or a shower." And then, before he could reply to her flabbergasting comment, she heard the clanking of her heels against the marble floor, and he knew she was gone.

How she knew Jace was having sex was beyond him, and Kaelie was even more dumfounded than he was. He shook his head, and then resumed position, but Kaelie bit his hand before he could get inside her.

"I'm not in the mood," she snapped, gathered her clothing, and went to a corner. The passageway was pretty huge, only a hallway with wide enough space. She got dressed quickly, smoothed over her hair, and opened the passageway door. He didn't hear the clanking of heels like he'd heard Clary's, which meant she was waiting for him.

Clary. He ruined the moment between Kaelie and him, but the moment didn't mean anything, so why was he so mad at her? He shook his head, finished buttoning his suit, and ran a hand through his hair before opening the door. He held out his arm for Kaelie to take. As soon as she took it, all they did was play pretend for the night as he tried to ignore Clary, the red haired girl with the nose ring—the sexy nose ring, one that he didn't notice at first. But he noticed it later, and he was trying so hard to forget it, to forget her. She was just a girl, not different from Kaelie.

He saw her a few times. They nodded at each other.

Both were playing pretend, but they were both so involved in their characters, they didn't know they were faking it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, guys! This is MaxWaylandGrey updating for Camille. I was going to call her something else, but I think it would have been innappropriate. Thing is, this was supposed to be up on Saturday or yesterday, but _someone_ gave me the wrong email. So, me—being oh-so smart ;)—found the right email that she wanted me to use. xD I swear, this chick. Anyways, awesome chapter! I have no idea when Camille will be back because she forgot to tell me such things. She didn't give me specifics of what to do here so... I'm rambling. Enjoy and review at the end! :D**

* * *

><p>"Clary." Someone's voice called her name, but she didn't know who. She felt like shit. Her head hurt—her whole body hurt—and she was a mess. She could tell before she opened her eyes.<p>

Jocelyn stood in front of her bed. "Finally," she said sourly.

"Whaddaya want?" Clary's voice was slurred.

"Hungover." Jocelyn looked terribly disappointed in her daughter; not that said daughter minded. Said daughter grinned at the thought of hurting her mother by the means of disappointment.

"Me?" Clary didn't remember much. She remembered Jace. That she remembered a bit too well. She smirked, unable to help herself.

"Do you think this is funny?" Jocelyn snapped.

"Quite hilarious, actually."

Her mother was fuming. "You're grounded. You need to go out to the beach."

_Fuck my life. _

Clary's mother knew that the only way to really punish her daughter was making her go out—especially here. She was content with being locked up in her room, but her mother wouldn't have that. So that was always her punishment.

"For how long?"

"A whole day. You can only keep your phone."

"Fine," Clary said, voice even, though she was shaking with fury. "Get out."

"Do NOT speak to me like that."

"I need to change," Clary said, ushering her mother out of the room and slamming her door as hard as she could.

She wore a white tank top underneath an oversized belly-button shirt, one that was light, but gave her more coverage. She wore that along with black shorts and her converse.

Her mother didn't even glance at her as she strolled into the kitchen and ate breakfast in a corner. She had a bag with her. Wordlessly, she went into her mother's room and took out five twenty-dollar bills out of her purse. If she was going to punish her, she was going to have to try better.

She shoved some of her boredom food in there, too, and then she said, "Bye!" to nothing in particular and strolled out of the house.

The air was hot and humid, as per usual. Palm trees surrounded Clary's view. People were playing beach volleyball, but she didn't care. She wasn't going to the beach. She walked toward the left, toward the festival—the summer festival, one they held around here, according to her research. _Research. _She snorted. She had to do as much in order to figure out what the hell she was going to do in annoyingly sunny LA for three months. She kicked at the sand, rock music blasting through her headphones. She didn't look up, just at the floor. She didn't care if people stared. She knew she looked out of place. Honestly? She didn't mind. When she did raise her head, she was about to run straight into a little boy.

He wore glasses, his hair was brown, and all Clary could think of was Simon. He reminded her of him so much. The reminder made her miss him, and she was suddenly very anxious for him to get here.

"I'm sorry," Clary said, plugging her headphones out of her ears. "Are you okay? Where are your parents?"

"I'm okay," he said. "I'm here with my siblings."

"Max!"

The voice calling this boy was very, very familiar to Clary. She looked up at the girl approaching them, and everything suddenly clicked: she was Isabelle Lightwood, and he was Max Lightwood, the kid that was too young for the gala, but that their mother spoke so highly of. Clary smiled at Isabelle, her smile dying slowly as she saw who came behind her.

Jace-fucking-Wayland.

"Well," Clary said, already plugging her headphones back in again. "I'm sorry again. I'll make it up to you sometime."

"Nice to see you," Isabelle said to Clary.

"Same." Clary gave her one last, hopefully kind-looking smile before walking away, not even sneaking a glance at Jace. She tried not to think about his golden eyes, about his golden hair, about how his voice sounded the night before while he—

The festival wasn't really a festival, but the sight of it took her breath away. Bright lights shone from tents, lights of all colors. There were those mirrors that made you look skinny and fat, she realized with a smile, and went to try them. She discovered that it was mostly a place where people would ride in roller coasters, a place in which people could play those games where they have to break the bottles and they earned a gigantic stuffed animal. That was what was in the festival—which was more of a carnival—and Clary liked it. There was nothing like this in New York, not really. Not like it was here. And they wouldn't let her out of their sight in Montana, so she felt free.

She _was _free.

She went to the first game she could find—the one with the bottles—and tried it out. She played three rounds before finally giving up. She went to some stands and bought some shirts—needed for the weather. She played more games—and never won, not even once. As fun as it was, she would've liked to walk home with a bear that was about her size by her side.

Nighttime had fallen by the time she started to head back. She decided to linger in a bonfire some people were having. Not too far away, yet not too near. She started to think of the things she'd gone through: boarding schools, years without a father, and now this. She shook her head. She didn't want to be her mother's prisoner. And she had to fight for her freedom. If it means losing her mother in the process, then so be it. Because, with a pang in her chest, she realized that her mother was already lost—she'd slipped away from her a long time ago, and there was nothing she could do.

She thought of happier things, like Simon, the only friend loyal enough to move every time Clary was expelled from a boarding school. His mother demanded Simon spent a week or two in her house, and then he could go to Clary's beach house. She smiled, thinking of how much that must've bothered him. She would see him soon, though.

And she would see Jace. For some reason, it made her stomach flutter, the newborn butterflies in it waking up.

She walked back to her house, still giddy. She hadn't felt so free in awhile. But then she decided that she needed to look happy when her mother saw her, not miserable—or maybe miserable. Yes, she decided. She would act like she looked miserable. Like a survivor. She did it, after all.

She opened the door to her house. Jocelyn stood there, waiting for her.

"Where have you been?"

"You," Clary said, pointing at her, "said to be out all day. And I was."

"It's one in the freaking morning!"

"I didn't know," Clary said, surprisingly meaning it.

"Go to your room."

"I suppose this means I'm not grounded. After all, I did what you asked me to."

"Just go."

Clary slammed the door shut—hard—in front of her mother's face.

After she showered and slipped on her pajamas, she lay down on her bed and started listening to music. One of her favorite songs came on, and she found herself humming the lyrics.

_I feel happy,  
>I feel sad,<br>I feel like running through the walls.  
>I'm overjoyed,<br>I'm undecided,  
>I don't know who I am.<br>Well, maybe I'm not perfect,  
>At least I'm working on it. <em>

_Twenty-two is like the worst idea that I could ever have,  
>There's too much pain,<br>There's too much freedom,  
>What should I do with this?<br>It's not the way you plan it,  
>It's how you make it happen.<em>

Clary wondered if being confused would stay with her forever. Like the writer of the song, she was sad and overjoyed and happy at the same time. She didn't know who she was. Well, she did, but she didn't think everyone else did. She was NOT perfect, and she wasn't working on it. But she knew there would be more of this to come, more of the pain and her mother's denial. She cradled her head between her hands and continued to listen, ceasing the humming. 

It's such a cold, cold world,  
>And I can't get out,<br>So I'll just make the best,  
>Of everything we'll never have.<br>It's such a cold, cold world,  
>That has got me down,<br>But I'll get right back up,  
>As long as spins around.<br>Hello, cold world.

Girls and boys keep lining up,  
>To see if they can measure up,<br>And they look good,  
>And they feel wow,<br>But it will never be enough.  
>You say you're really hurting,<br>At least you're feeling something.  
>And we can hope,<br>And we can pray that everything will work out fine,  
>But you can't just stay down on your knees,<br>The revolution is outside,  
>You wanna make a difference,<br>Get out and go to get it.

And that was what Clary wanted to do. She wanted to go for it—to go for what she wanted. Her mother always wanted to be an artist, and that was where Clary got her talent from. That was who she wanted to be. She wanted to be free of her mother, free of her leashes and parties and galas; and Jace—this world—was not about to change that.

_I won't change. I won't. _

That was her last thought before she fell asleep.

/

Kaelie hadn't slept over. Her choice, not his.

He felt free—free of her, free of her games. She would be mad one second, and the other he was pinned against a wall and her hand was rubbing his crotch. He shook his head. He liked women he could understand, or at least women who weren't trying too hard to be clear.

He thought about seeing Clary last night for the first time since the night before. She looked different, more like herself, walking with her dark clothing and her upbeat music blasting from her headphones. She was beautiful.

Jace paused.

He'd never called a girl beautiful before. Pretty? Yes. Hot? All the time. Sexy? Mostly in bed, but no restrictions applied. But beautiful? No. He had never called a girl beautiful, and he'd just thought of Clary that way.

Oh, but she was beautiful. Her flaming red curls gave her a spitfire look. She could kill anyone with that glare; make anyone her slave with that voice.

"Jace!" Isabelle said, pounding on his door, snapping him out of his thoughts that were leading nowhere good. "Let's take Max to Clary's."

Jace paused. "Am I dreaming?"

Isabelle snorted. "You wish. Why?"

"Why are we going to Clary's?"

"She reads manga, so does he . . . I don't know." Isabelle shrugged and walked away, making her way down the stairs and yelling, "Max, you've got five minutes before I'm gone! You too, Jace!"

And, no matter how much he tried to deny it, he wanted to see her. He wanted to see her hair and hear her voice, wanted to feel pressured to be his best under her glare.

Mostly, he wanted to take her lips and crush them to his.

He shook his head. Clary would never, ever fall for that. Another shake of the head while he dressed—a black shirt and jeans would suffice, he decided.

Why did he care?

He was downstairs in two minutes, running a hand through his hair and jogging to the kitchen. He took a bite of some leftover bagel and served himself orange juice. He gulped that down in two minutes as well, leaving him with half a minute to spare.

He was out the door before Max and Isabelle, and he didn't notice it until he heard her laughter from the house.

"You're already crazy about her?" She shook her head. "Damn, this is gonna be fun."

"Shut up." He glared.

"Too much fun," she repeated, and then she drove away—toward Clary's house.

Jace tuned his siblings out, concentrating on playing on the radio, which he didn't even know the name of. He stared out the window as the music blasted through the car's speakers.

_She takes her time with the little things,  
>Love notes reminding me,<br>She wears red when she's feeling hot,  
>I have her, but it's all I got.<em>

She looks best without her clothes,  
>I know it's wrong,<br>But that's the way it goes.  
>I don't know what she sees in me,<br>But I'm happy,  
>And she's happy now,<br>That she's with me,  
>And I'm freaking out,<br>Because I'm just so lucky.

And she makes me feel like shit,  
>But I can't get over it,<br>'Cause she's everything I ask for,  
>Everything I ask for,<br>And just a little bit more.  
>Everything I ask for,<br>Everything I ask for,  
>And so much more.<p>

Jace shut his eyes. He wished he could say he thought of Kaelie naked, of Kaelie making him feel like shit. But the thing was, he didn't like it.

He thought of Clary: her nose ring, her red hair, her attitude. And he imagined her naked. When that thought—that image—crossed his mind, he looked away, embarrassed. Even though he'd thought like that of many girls before, it was weird to think of Clary like that. Because, as cheesy sounding as it was, she was different.

They pulled up in her driveway. It was empty, but somehow, Jace knew Clary was inside. Isabelle, Max and Jace exited the car, and the older girl rung the house bell twice before a man appeared in front of them.

"Fairchild residence," he said. "Who are you?"

"We are family friends, here to see Clary." Isabelle wrapped his arms around Max. At the mention of Clary, his eyes lit up, and he started to bounce up and down.

The guy eyed them before jerking his head and letting them in.

"Jocelyn?" Clary's voice echoed through the house. She was on top of the stairs, just like she had been the night she and Jace met, only she wore a simple t-shirt, some sweatpants, and her hair was messy.

"Nope. Way more interesting people," said Isabelle, a grin on her face as Clary raced down the stairs.

"Hi," she said, panting when she was down there. Her eyes slid to meet Jace's stare for a brief moment, and then she continued to pay attention to Isabelle.

"Max says you love manga. So does he, so he wanted to . . . talk about it? Was that it?" Her eyes searched confirmation in Max's. Very eagerly, he nodded and explained everything to her. They soon got into a deep, thoughtful conversation about manga. Jace studied her while she talked, studied the way her smile was soft, so unlike that night that it was a wonder he was standing in front of the same person.

"Do you have any cookies?" Max asked, rubbing his belly.

"Max!" Isabelle scolded.

"It's fine," Clary said to Isabelle, then turned back to Max and said, "The kitchen is right there," pointing to the hallway to the right side of the stairs. "Second door. You can't miss it. They should have something in there." She ruffled his hair a second before he took off running toward the kitchen.

Then she turned serious and looked at Jace. "What are you doing here?"

"Whoa," Isabelle said, "did I miss something?"

"Izzy, stay out of this," Jace told her, a bit too harshly. He didn't apologize. "They wanted me to tag along."

"If it's so painful," Clary said, rolling her eyes, "you can leave."

"Oh," he said, now standing as close to her as he could get, whispering in her ear. "But I don't want to."

Her heartbeat quickened, Jace noticed with a smirk. He stayed in the same position, not moving, not even one inch.

And then she narrowed her eyes.

"Fuck you," she said.

"You will," he said, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. "And you will like it."

"I sure as hell won't. And," she added, a smile forming in her lips, this one innocent, "you have a girlfriend."

Through gritted teeth, he said, "She won't be for long."

"Asshat."

"What?" For the first time in a long time, Jace looked as confused as he felt.

"You are an asshat, a dickhead, and you sure as hell don't deserve to be here, so get out." She walked over to the door and opened it for him.

"You're serious."

"Dead serious."

He stared at her, hoping the warm, happy Clary would return. Instead, there stood Clary, glaring at him and barking at him, yelling at him to GET OUT OF THE FUCKING HOUSE.

With a disappointed sigh, he did as told.

Why?

He didn't know.

But he was going to find out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys :) So, I'm sorry for not updating in forever…it won't happen again. Promise. I was in vacation (AND IT WAS SO MUCH FUN!). And then I got back, to the real world, where I have to do homework and remember to update, which is quite hard. ;D  
><strong>**Thanks to maxwaylandgrey for being my beta. :D And for listening to me rant about my crush (HE IS SO AMAZING AND HIS SMILE AND WREIDJGFNRWSHJGDF. I am never like thisss oh my god the end of the world AHHHH). ...*clears throat* Also, thanks to SportyNo1 for always being there for me, and to two wonderful ladies, frizzyhead101 and firelady101. ;D  
><strong>**Thanks to everyone who reviews, and to you who add this to your alerts. (But it'd mean the world to me if you reviewed!) **

**…speaking of…**

**Review?:)**

* * *

><p>Clary was grounded. Again.<p>

Her mother didn't listen to her when she said that she wasn't feeling well enough to go to the gala that day. When she escaped from her house, Jocelyn tried another tactic.

She took Clary's phone away with a smirk on her face. "Now you go out without it," she'd said a few hours ago before shutting Clary's door.

What her mother didn't know, however, was that going to many boarding schools over the years taught Clary to have a backup plan. So, as soon as Jocelyn was out of earshot and sight, Clary took out her iPod, hid it in her hoodie pocket, and went out the door.

It was chilly outside, a rarity if you knew California like Clary did now that she'd been there for three weeks. Simon arrived tomorrow. She could NOT wait until she saw her best friend. She would DIE.

She was so happy, thinking about Simon, but then Jace came into view, and her good mood vanished into the thin air.

"Clary," he said, sounding pleased with himself. Clary wanted to slap him.

"Jace," she said sourly.

"Why do you hate me?" he blurted out, and by the widening of his eyes, she knew the question hadn't been planned. He just came up with it.

"I don't hate you." She chose her words carefully. "I just don't like you."

"Is there a difference?"

"Yes," she said. "You have a chance to make this better if I dislike you. If I hate you, though, you have no chance at all."

"Good to know I have a chance," Jace said.

"Barely."

"It's something," he said, not looking like the cocky, confident guy she'd met at the party. But then it changed.

Then, Kaelie came into view, and Clary saw red.

"I'll see you later, then." She nodded at Kaelie, who muttered a greeting directed to her. She didn't have a chance to reply, though, not that she wanted to anyway. She was gone before she could make up her mind.

Clary couldn't explain what came over her. She didn't like Jace—not that way or in any way—but she knew the feeling she just experienced.

_Jealousy._

She cringed internally. There was no way Clary liked Jace, and there was no way she was jealous of Kaelie. She turned up her iPod's volume to the maximum level and kept walking, fully aware that some people were staring at the girl blasting angry music, the girl wearing combat boots and a hoodie in LA in the middle of the summer.

Sometimes, being different is all you can be.

Clary walked over to the empty side of the beach. There she sat, staring at the ocean, wishing she could swim endlessly until she got to the very edge of the world. Then, all there was left to do was fall.

"Clary."

She groaned. Seriously? It was him again—his voice, his golden eyes, his blond hair. She couldn't get rid of him. He was everywhere, taking up her space, not letting her think.

"What do you want?"

"I just want to understand," he said.

"Understand what?"

"Why you hate me."

She groaned and said, "We've been over this, Jace."

"And I have no answers still," he complained.

"Fine. Want an answer? I'll give you one. I hate guys like you—guys who think they hold the world in their hands. The ones that think everyone loves them. That's you. And that, by the way, is not true."

She wanted to stand up and storm off angrily, but she didn't. She had nowhere else to go.

"Well, what can I say? I'm an optimist." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He sat down next to Clary, observing the sea as the waves crashed on the shore. "It's complicated," he said quietly.

"Then make it simple for me," she said. "Because if not, then I won't know what you mean, and I will still dislike you."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"It's a long story."

"And I've got time."

"Never mind." He stood up abruptly, his cocky smile back. "See you around."

She said nothing. Instead, she looked back at the waves, her thoughts going back to the fall.

Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

/

Jace tried to distract himself the whole night, but his thoughts kept going back to Clary, to the way she seemed like she had him figured out. And maybe she had, but she didn't say anything. Jace knew she was a loner, keeping to herself most of the time. But she was also strong, stronger than anyone could understand at that moment. People underestimated her, and she knew how people could be. It made Jace catch his breath every time he was near her.

Which was why he was going to do this tonight, no matter what the consequences meant.

Kaelie was flirting with some guys from the bonfire last night, but as soon as she felt Jace come back, her head snapped up. She saw him, her eyes narrowing instantly, and excused herself from the guys. They all looked fixated on her beauty and who wouldn't be? Kaelie is one of those extremely hot girls who any guy would kill to date.

"Are you done now?" she spat at him, the words full of venom and hatred. He eyed her. He actually felt sorry for her, for the way this was going to happen. Because, at the beginning, she was the girl he wanted.

The first time he hooked up with her. The sex was so good, and she wasn't clingy at all. Jace wanted a girl like that, but Kaelie disappointed him, being everything he didn't want her to be. While he felt sorry for her, he knew he was going to do this the only way he knew.

"Yes." Jace took a step closer to her. "We're done."

"Good. Now, if we can get back to the bonfire, that'd be great." She looped her arm through his and started walking, but he wouldn't budge. His expression was serious.

"When I said 'we're done'," said Jace, snatching his arm back, "I meant us. You and me. Me and you. We're over, Kaelie."

"What?" she said, nearly shouted, narrowing her eyes until they looked as if they were closed.

"You heard me," Jace said. "We. Are. Over."

"I knew it," she muttered and then repeated it louder. "It's her. You're . . . I don't know, but you won't leave her alone. It gets creepy." She was trying to embarrass him. Jace grinned at the ridiculousness of the situation, and started walking away. He wanted to feel bad for her. And he did, in a way. Mostly, though, he just knew he had to get away from her, because she was going to get really, really pissed, and she was a force to be reckoned with.

"We're over!" he heard Kaelie shout behind him. "OVER, YOU SON OF A BITCH."

"I know," Jace shouted back.

She heard the sob escape from her lips as he climbed into his car.

/

By the time Clary made her way to the bonfire, a large group of people were circled around beside the fire. Something had happened—a fight, or a drunken, dying person. Clary shrugged. It was probably the former, but she didn't have the energy to start caring.

She went over to the keg—because there was one. Someone handed her a beer, and she chugged it down too fast, the alcohol burning her throat slightly. It felt raw, like she might've been getting a cold. She held her hand out, and another beer was handed over to her in no time. She chugged that one down, too.

"You."

Clary knew that voice. That voice was too high-pitched, too whiny, and it came from a blonde California girl whose boyfriend was stalking Clary to the point where she wanted a restriction order.

Kaelie.

"Yes, it's me," Clary said after turning around and finding everyone staring at her. "So?"

"You know what," the other girl spat.

"I don't," Clary said, confused. The other girl looked at her with pure hatred.

"Where is he?" Kaelie asked, ignoring the way Clary kept saying she didn't know what the hell she was talking about. "WHERE IS JACE?"

Her voice was way too loud in Clary's ears. "I don't know," she said.

"Yes, you do!"

"How the hell," Clary spat, her fury getting the best of her, "should I know where your boyfriend is?"

"Ex-boyfriend," Kaelie corrected painfully. "Not that you didn't know that."

"I didn't." Clary wasn't shocked that they'd broken up. Jace seemed bored with her, only liking the sex. Unwanted images of him naked flashed through Clary's mind, making her blush.

"He left me for you," Kaelie said, bringing her back to the present day. Kaelie choked on her own tears and continued, saying, "He left me for you, and you don't even care."

"I don't like him," Clary said evenly.

"You don't know him."

"I don't," Clary said through gritted teeth.

"But you will." Kaelie's words surprised her. "You won't be able to resist it. He will crawl into your skin, make his way into your veins, and he will stay there. He will break your heart, shatter it into a million pieces. It's what he does." She shrugged while Clary tried to ignore the shivers that went up her spine. She couldn't think about it. She wouldn't.

"I won't get to know him." Clary found the strength to speak only a heartbeat later. "He won't get anywhere with me, okay? So just . . . go get him back or whatever."

"You don't get it, do you?" Kaelie inched closer to her. "Once he sets his eyes on a target, he will go after it until he gets it, uses it, and throws it away." She looked utterly hurt. Clary considered being sympathetic for a moment, but she shook her head.

"Not me," Clary said, walking away from the bonfire and towards her house.

If she only knew.

/

"So you and Kaelie are over, then?" said Isabelle, brows furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

She knew the answer.

"You know why," Jace grumbled. "Now shut up."

"You and Clary would make a cute couple." She snickered. Jace threw a cracker at her face, saying nothing.

"You agree," Isabelle observed. Jace just glared at her. "Look," she said, "I know how you feel."

"No, you don't."

"No," she admitted, "I don't. But leave her alone."

"I can't, Izzy," he said, a hint of panic in his voice. "I can't do it."

Isabelle took a bite of her cracker, set it down, and drank some water, all while staring at Jace. He knew she was trying to get him to understand something, but his mind went blank the minute he started thinking.

"You'll have to," she said. "If you don't, she won't get near you. Ever."

"Your confidence in me is amazing." Jace rolled his eyes.

"It's not you, Jace." She jerked her head toward the door. "It's her. If she doesn't call or visit, she doesn't want you."

"Or she wants to see someone else," Jace said, thinking of Max, his little brother, talking about manga with Clary. Jace wished he could like that, but at the same time, he didn't want to. All he wanted was to hold that redhead in his arms.

"Yeah." Isabelle nodded.

"That'll change."

"You can't change things," she protested.

"Who the hell said that?"

"I say it," his sister said. "Look, I know you're really desperate right now, but you cannot go do this. I am a girl and girls understand. Okay?"

He nodded mutely, unbelievably listening to his sister. He just got out his iPod and listened to a few tracks before relaxing. Music always made him feel better, whether he's had the shittiest day or the best day.

"Go sleep," Isabelle said, patting his head. "You've got a long night ahead of you."

Jace groaned, putting his head in between his knees.

Tonight. The night Kaelie's parents visited.

Shit.

He was going to have a long talk with Maryse.

* * *

><p><strong>***I only own the story, not the characters or the books or whatever. And this is the only time I will ever say it, so read CLOSELY. I am not Cassandra Clare. I'm not a redhead, I'm not married, and I don't own Jace. If I did, life would be perfect.***<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, guys! I was planning on having this up a bit sooner, but it's been a busy week, and I was at my friend's house until, like, an hour ago. So, here you go…Chapter 5. Edited by the wonderful MaxWaylandGrey, who helps me deal with my every day live AND reads my crap. ;D It's amazing what this girl does, really. A shout-out to everyone who reviews! I love you guys AND your feedback! But mostly to PinkGoesWithEverything, (POTAAAAATOOOOOOOOOOES!) who will be MOVING AWAY in a few days, LEAVING ME ALONE IN ASSHOLE LAND FOR THE REST OF MY DAYS. …until college. Another shout-out to SportyNo1, for being there all the time, and to firelady101 and frizzyhead101, for being awesome and talking to me about random stuff. :3**

**Hope you like this chapter, guys.**

**…Review? **

Dinner was going to happen.

Those were the last and only words Maryse said to Jace when he asked about the dinner. He stood in front of a mirror, eyeing his clothing. His simple black shirt and black pants were always enough, but he added a hoodie that day for no reason.

"Jace?" Isabelle's head poked inside his room. "They're here." When she saw his face, however, she practically ran up to him and said, "What happened? You okay?"

"Yeah," he said, shrugging himself off of her and walking on the opposite direction. "It's none of your business."

"Clary?"

"Fine," Jace said through gritted teeth. "Kaelie and I are over. Happy?"

"Tremendously," Isabelle said with a grin. Her grin slowly faded as she saw how grim her brother remained. Sighing, she shut the door and sat on his bed. "What is it?"

"It's her." Jace ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to do. I've never been like this. It's like—it's electrifying, but it isn't all good," he said, trying to explain to his sister how he felt about her, but it was all coming out wrong. "I don't know." He sighed, giving up.

"If you like her this much," Isabelle said, waiting a long time before continuing her sentence, "don't give up. It has to be hard. From what I've seen, she detests you, but not really. There is something, like she does it for show." She shrugged. "Maybe I'm imagining things."

"Maybe," Jace echoed pensively. "Anyway, I'll just suck it up, get laid, and forget her. Can't be that bad, right?"

"Use condoms," his sister said. "Don't get drunk. And don't think you can just forget her. She's—different. I like her. I think she'll help you become a decent member of society."

With that, she exited the room.

With one last look at his appearance, he stormed down the stairs and waited. And waited. And waited.

And then there was Kaelie, who was all bright and shiny and smiley. She reeked of alcohol, cigarettes, mint and perfume. She'd had sex multiple times, he could tell. He didn't mind, not at all. He just steered clear from her.

Everything was going fine. The food was great, the conversations were appropriate, and Kaelie hadn't tried to shoot him.

". . . her daughter Clary, who is very beautiful," Jace's mom, Celine, said from the other end of the table. Kaelie visibly flinched at the mention of Clary, her body turning rigid. Celine continued anyway, saying, "She's Jocelyn's daughter, the ones coming over on Saturday."

They were coming over on Saturday?

A set of chills ran up to his spine.

He would see her again, as soon as Saturday.

"Oh," Kaelie said. "Are we coming to that?" She faced her parents, batting her eyelashes at them. They turned to the Lightwoods, and they nodded. Jace was having a hard time swallowing. His ex-girlfriend and the girl he was currently crazy about, both in the same house.

"Yes," her father said with a nod. A silent agreement had happened between the two families just then, and there was nothing Jace could do about it.

"May I be excused?" He stood up from his chair.

Maryse eyed him up and down. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just—I forgot to do something earlier. I have to head out."

"Okay." Maryse patted his shoulder and stood. "I'll walk you out."

"Mom, it's fine," Jace said, but his mother wouldn't hear it.

"Come on," she said, dragging him across the room and out the door. Before he could utter a word, she said, "You two are over, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Jace shuffled his feet and looked at the ground awkwardly, something he never did, not since he was little. "I guess."

"You guess?" Maryse shook her head in a disapproving manner. "Am I supposed to tell her parents?"

"That'd be nice."

"Jace." She shook her head. "Fine," she said after a few minutes. "I'll talk. Now go."

"To where?"

"Find the girl," Maryse said with a wink. "And let her know."

"Let her know what?"

"Everything she needs to know."

And then he was alone, in the darkness, with no choice but to take the keys out of his pockets and climb inside the car. Then he reminded himself of the look in her eyes when she looked at the ocean. He climbed out of the car and walked on the shoreline for almost an hour. He knocked on her door.

Two seconds later, not nearly enough for anyone to register there had been a knock on the door, someone stumbled into him. Green eyes met his golden ones, the green ones narrowing into slits as soon as they registered whose eyes the golden ones were from.

Jace.

And he hated himself for being him.

He hated that he had to be conceited and cocky and fancy and everything she wasn't because he wanted her to like him. Not_ that_ desperately, of course. He wouldn't change.

He wouldn't.

He told this to himself various times.

"What are you doing here?" she asked angrily. "Honestly." She stormed off with a huff, leaving the door half-open. After Jace shut it, he ran after her.

"Wait," he said, panting as he caught up to her.

"I have to go, Jace," she said, climbing into her car. Just as she was about to speed away, right after she waved, he climbed in through the open window. Maybe she'd done it on purpose, he thought with wonder.

"Un-fucking-believable," she muttered.

Okay, so she hadn't done it on purpose. "What? Can't be seen with a hottie like me? Afraid it'll ruin your bad girl reputation?"

"No. In fact, I'm scared I'll ruin yours."

"Oh, but you've forgotten one thing," he said, much to her irritation.

"What?"

"I don't care what other people think." He shrugged.

"Good." She paused. "Why'd you climb into my car?"

"You won't hear me out," Jace replied, shrugged again, and stared out the window.

"Then, tell me," she said. "I'll listen."

"I don't want a one-night thing," Jace said to her, voice and eyes serious. "I want something that'll make me feel like I did something without a girl."

"Because you think you depend on them."

"I don't know what to depend on," he said.

"How about nothing?" she asked, eyes on the road, lips pursed.

"That's not fun, now is it?"

All she did was nothing; stare into distance as if it might know the answer.

/

Simon Lewis looked as he always had to Clary. His brown hair, his brown eyes, his glasses . . . all of him. He was shorter than Jace, whose eyes widened in mock horror when he saw Simon step inside the car.

"You've been cheating on me?" Jace had asked.

"What?" Simon asked, dumbfounded.

"He's an asshole," was Clary's explanation as she loaded his things into the trunk with his help. She shut it, climbed inside, and drove away.

"I'm Jace."

"Simon."

They shook hands while Clary shook her head, rolling her eyes at the boys.

"So, you're Clary's boyfriend." Jace looked at him, then back at her.

"No," said Simon, and Clary could've sworn she saw him blush. "Best friend. You?"

"A stranger," Clary said.

"You don't give rides to strangers," Simon reminded her. She wanted to die.

"Jocelyn and Luke know his family."

"Not a complete stranger, then," Simon said, leaning back in his chair, relaxing.

"I never said those words."

"They were implied," he replied.

"Hey, hey," said Jace. "No need to argue over me. Sure, I'm hot and all, but really." He flashed Clary his million-dollar grin.

With a smirk, she flipped him off. All Jace did was wink, followed by a snort from Simon.

"You two are adorable," he said.

"Don't," Clary said. "Don't, or I'll tell everyone about that third grade incident."

Simon sighed. "I guess I'll have to keep the teasing to myself."

"You bet," she replied.

"So," Jace said, "Simon, will you be staying at Clary's house all summer?"

Simon nodded and said, "Yeah, and then we go to boarding schoooool! Yet another one, that is."

"Oh, yay!" Clary said with mock enthusiasm. She kept her eyes on the road, never meeting Jace's curious stares. She didn't want him to know how much it hurt her that her mother didn't care enough to give her an actual home.

"Which one are you going to? Maybe we'll end up in the same one," Jace said.

"You go to boarding schools?"

"Not last year," he admitted. "But this year, I'm going back."

"Because . . . ?" Clary didn't want to be curious, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't. She wanted to know why. She wanted to know _him,_ because he was different. He was . . . a player. But he had something that no one else had. He cared enough to follow her wherever. She found it creepy sometimes, but when you had a hot boy you may or may not like following you, thinking straight was never an option.

"Because," he said, shrugging. "I . . . like boarding schools."

"Liar," she said.

"You don't know me," he said, raising his eyebrows, daring her to say that she did know him.

"We'll have to change that, then." The words stumbled out of her mouth before she could register what she was saying, and when she did, she wanted to curl up in a ball and become invisible.

"I'll call," he replied with a wink.

"Oh, Jesus," said Simon from behind them. "Just hook up already. The sexual tension here is driving me insane."

Clary tried hard to hide the blush that crept to her cheeks. Jace, however, smirked and said, "As it should."

The rest of the drive was silent—most of it, at least. Simon decided to turn the radio up when they were halfway to Clary's house. The first song Clary recognized came after three pop songs she didn't know.

_Just a small town girl,  
>Living in a lonely world,<br>She took the midnight train going anywhere.  
>Just a city boy,<br>Born and raised in South Detroit,  
>She took the midnight train going anywhere. <em>

However awesome the original version of that song was, Clary hated the Glee version. She switched stations until she found a mildly interesting rock one. She switched that one, and the next, and the one after that . . . until she found the song she wanted, and she was surprised it was even playing. She didn't know she was looking for it. All she knew it was a woman talking about regretting the years she spent in love with a man that broke her heart.

"That is some depressing shit," commented Jace, but Clary noticed he knew the song by the way his eyes were closed and his lips formed the lyrics of the song. She smiled to herself and turned back to the road. He looked so peaceful. Ruining it would mean the actual Jace would be here, and she did not want that—or so she told herself. But, truthfully, she liked Jace's cocky side, too. There was something about him—about it—that made her feel like he was good enough.

Or maybe she was just insane. Who knew?

She shook her head and focused on getting home safely. Having just gotten her license a month before getting here, driving made her feel nervous. She kept her eyes on the road, fingers absentmindedly tapping the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music.

"We're here," she announced as soon as her dimly lit porch came to view. She parked the car outside and hopped off, Simon trailing behind her.

"Um," Simon said, and he said nothing after that.

"I know, right? Some fancy shit they decided to buy this time." Clary rolled her eyes and walked over to the back of her trunk.

"Don't you have butlers?" Jace blurted out when he saw her unload Simon's things from the trunk.

"Yes, but unlike you, I'm not a spoiled brat. I like to do things myself," she said, slamming the trunk shut and carrying some bags inside along with Simon.

"No one said I didn't," Jace said, holding his hands up defensively, then sighed. "I don't suppose I can come in?" He looked at her with pleading eyes.

Clary bit her lip. "It's late, and I don't think Jocelyn would be happy, so . . . I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"See you tomorrow, then." He winked before jogging off into the direction of the ocean, then walking along the shoreline back to his home. Suddenly, Clary felt like calling his name, telling him he could stay, but she knew she couldn't. Not because of her mom, not at all. She could care less of what her mom thought, really. She only cared because of one reason, one that had to do with herself only.

She cared because if she gave her heart away, there would be nothing left of her, nothing at all.

**I'm gonna say this because I'm bored.**

****I do not own The Mortal Instruments. They belong to a super cool New York resident called Cassandra Clare, which I'm sure you've heard of. The lyrics belong to their respective authors. I own nothing but the storyline and the cool nose ring, okay? Otherwise, my life would be pretty damn awesome.** **


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! So, here is the next chapter, a bit earlier than I planned. Because I made maxwaylandgrey edit it earlier. Because I am mean and she is lazy. :D But oh well. Anyways, I won't be updating 'till she edits the next chapter…maybe on Saturday? Sigh. One can dream. I'm going paintballing for the first time soon, so I am exciteeeed! (: Thanks to maxwaylandgrey for, aside from being my beta, being my friend and listening to me rant about pointless crap. Thanks to PinkGoesWithEverything for being a good friend (most of the time), to SportyNo1 for being awesome and always listening to me, and to firelady101 and frizzyhead101 for being awesomesauce. :DD And thanks to you guys, for reading and reviewing:) **

…**.Review?:) **

Jace dragged himself out of bed at nine in the morning, all because of Isabelle's constant banging against his door. She kept saying, "WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE!" in a voice that was too loud for his taste, though he had no idea what they were going to be late for.

And then he remembered.

He remembered the nerdy kid sitting in the back seat, the one Clary and he went to pick up the day before. He remembered the look on her face as he walked away from her, like she wanted him, which was not possible, considering how much she hated him.

"Where are we going?" Jace's voice came out slurred.

"Clary's house. Max," she said, with an exasperated sigh, "is dying to go."

"Yessssss!" said Max from somewhere in the hallway, and Jace could practically see him bounce with excitement. It made him grin widely—everything about Max did. He was a young kid, innocent, naïve. He shouldn't have that taken away—no one should.

Jace grunted, pretending to be annoyed, ignoring the way his insides churned in the best way every time he thought of Clary.

"I'm coming," he said to his siblings. "Where's Alec?" Lazily, he stood up from his bed and walked over to his drawer. He pulled out some jeans and a t-shirt, waiting for Isabelle's answer as he stripped his pajamas off and dressed with new clothing.

"He's out with his boyfriend," said Isabelle from the other side of the door.

"Ooooh, Magnus?" Max asked.

"Yeah, kid. He went out with Magnus. Don't tease," Isabelle scolded, but Jace knew she was grinning, even though he couldn't see her.

"I like Magnus," Max stated.

Jace stifled a laugh as he exited his room. Isabelle nodded to Max, and Jace's smaller brother descended the stairs as quickly as he could without falling.

"What?" Jace asked with a sigh. He didn't want her to lecture him about Clary, about what would happen and what she wouldn't let him do, though he was almost completely sure Clary would never let him as near as Isabelle thought he'd be.

"Just . . . good luck." She started walking down the hallway, but then she turned around and said, "And Jace?" He whirled around to face her. "If you're going to make her fall in love with you, which I doubt you can accomplish with her, just . . . don't break her heart. Please," she begged, and then she disappeared from his view and walked down the spiral stairs, her heels clanking loudly against the ground.

_I won't, _Jace thought, wishing he could say those things to Isabelle. _I won't break her or her heart. I promise._

But the thing about the promise was he didn't know what was coming, didn't know her as well as he thought, and he didn't think he could handle breaking her if what he got to know wasn't what he expected. He bit his thumb once, then marched inside his room, took his phone, a swig of vodka, and went out the door.

Isabelle took one look at him, nodded, and said, "You reek of alcohol. Here," handing him a piece of gum.

And then they climbed into the car and drove away to Clary's house, where the girl he was obsessing over was, where her friend was, and where he hoped he'd convince her to go out with him. He didn't hold his breath. After all, she was friends with Isabelle. Jace would most likely end up with a black eye and a stomachache. He just hoped the girl would give him a chance, because he had never felt this way about anyone before, and it was driving him insane.

Before he knew it, they were at Clary's house. He had been engulfed in his own thoughts, and now, standing in front of Clary's door, he shook them away. There was no time—and no way—to act like he was acting in his mind. He had to be cocky. He had to be . . . everything he normally was to girls that shouldn't keep their clothes on.

"Hey," Clary said, greeting them by the entrance. Her eyes met Jace's and, in a heartbeat, they focused on Max. But he could see it—whatever "it" was, he could see it. A connection? Maybe. But if she looked away as fast as she did, it was because she wanted the connection gone. And Jace couldn't let that happen. He had to keep her interested.

He smirked to himself.

His specialty.

/

Clary knew from the moment she saw Jace's expression that something was up. She didn't ask questions. She talked to him like she usually would while looking for signs of strange behavior. Clary was an expert at reading people, so she picked up a few mistakes, most of them minor.

He fidgeted sometimes while grinning his half-grin-half-smirk kind of smile that made everyone go _insane_ because they didn't know what the hell he smiled about, but it also drove them insane because they didn't exactly know what his smile-grin-smirk-thing was.

"So," Clary said, "what's up?"

"Well, I'd say the ceiling, but I guess you could argue that the sky is up there." He pointed at the ceiling with his index finger. "Beyond the roof."

Clary, for some reason, felt herself start to melt at the sight of him looking up, trying to find something holy. The sight of him stretching his whole body up as if looking for the sky, for somewhere, anywhere.

Everywhere.

"The sky is limitless. It's everywhere," Clary said, then stood up abruptly. She was scared that this guy—this stranger—would figure it all out. No one could know, not at all. So she held the tears back and told him she had to go upstairs and get ready for some friend thing. Then she called a friend and asked her to pick her up by the time Jace was still there, saying that she needed it, and that her friend would love her. Maia, her new good friend, accepted the offer.

"But why do you need to run away from the hot guy again?" Maia asked through the phone as she drove to Clary's house.

"Because," Clary said, "I just do."

"Great explanation," said Maia.

"Thanks," replied Clary.

"I'll see him and tell you if I approve, 'kay?"

"Okay," Clary said slowly, throwing herself back in bed. "When will you be here?"

"Fifteen minutes, so don't fall asleep." As soon as Maia finished her sentence, Clary yawned and stood up. She was still really tired for some reason.

"Fine." She hung up on her friend, slipped on her beat-up converse, and stormed out of her room. The door slammed loudly behind her, making her wince. "Sorry!" she said, knowing her mother or Luke would come out any time if they were there to tell her that doors shouldn't be slammed. She rolled her eyes at the thought of getting that lecture _again_.

She almost ran into Jace. Muttering a quick, "Sorry," she made her way out of her house.

But not before Maia beat her to the entrance.

"Damn it," Clary swore swiftly.

"Hey," Maia said. "Do you have food? I'm starving." She lets herself inside the house, eyes scanning the whole house.

"So?" Clary asked.

"Nice place. Too fancy. You know," she said, rolling her eyes. "So." She stopped right in front of Jace. "Butler. Great. Here," she stripped off her hoodie, "is this. Hold it 'till I leave, 'kay, Blondie?"

"Excuse me," Jace said while Clary stifled the laughter that rose from the back of her throat and made the way to her mouth, "but I'm not a butler. I am a guest. I'll be treated as one."

Maia snorted. "Okay, snobby boy. Be a gentleman, then, and hold my hoodie while I go fetch something to eat."

"Who wears a hoodie in the middle of the summer?" Jace said.

Clary stared at him pointedly, then back at her outfit, and said, "I do. And, if you wanna get laid, you will shut up and move." She grabbed Maia's hoodie from his arms and walked to the kitchen, glancing behind her when he couldn't see, only to find him standing there, waiting.

What was he waiting for?

"He's hot," Maia said, nibbling on a piece of cheese. Then, when she saw Clary—when she finally registered the fact that she was there—she decided it was time to leave, and so they took their things and walked out the door.

"He is _hot_," Maia said again, with emphasis on the last word, not that Clary needed that to notice how hot Jace was.

"And an asshole," Clary reminded her, because while he might've been a god physically, he was anything but one when it came to his personality.

"That, too," Maia agreed, climbing inside the car.

"So, where to?" Clary looked ahead, waiting for her friend to answer the question, though she knew. She was going to want to visit her boyfriend, Jordan. He was a decent guy, though Clary didn't like spending as much time with them both. She liked spending time alone with Maia. She behaved differently when Jordan was around—like a dog and its master. That was how it was the two of them. Clary shook her head. She knew Jordan loved Maia.

Clary had been to a boarding school in Los Angeles before—the second one she'd ever been to. Freshman year. She hated, hated, _hated_ freshman year, and the scars in her arms were enough to prove it. She ran a hand up and down her wrist self-consciously, trying hard to shove those memories down her throat, trying not to scream at the thought of living them all over again. That was where she'd met Maia and Jordan. They hated each other back then, but something changed during sophomore year, because they became friends and, ultimately, became a couple. Clary only hoped he wasn't as short-tempered as before. She really, really did.

"We're going to the studio," Maia said, much too Clary's surprise, with an added wink.

"The studio." Clary hadn't thought of that as an escape place. She hadn't ever thought of it as a good place at all, mostly because it was where the three worst things of her freshman year had happened. It was the place where she fell in love, the place where she lost her virginity, and the place where her heart shattered into a million pieces.

All thanks to that asshole, Sebastian Verlac.

"There are some new people performing today. Hey," she said, "where's Simon?"

"What? Eager to see your boyfriend?" Clary teased, and Maia turned a deep shade of red. When they first got here, Maia crushed on Simon—until he and Clary left, and all she had was Jordan, and then the relationship happened.

"He's my friend," was all Maia said, and then the rest of the car was spent in silence. Maia turned up the radio, and a Taylor Swift song was playing. Of course.

_Romeo, save me,  
>They're trying to tell me how to feel.<br>This love is difficult,  
>But it's real.<br>Don't be afraid,  
>We'll make it out of this mess,<br>It's a love story,  
>Baby just say yes.<em>

Clary rolled her eyes and glanced over at Maia. "Please change it," she begged her friend. She shrugged, never making a move to change it. The song stopped playing. And then another "Romeo and Juliet" related song started playing. Oh, yay.

_Check yes Juliet,  
>Are you with me?<br>Rain is falling down,  
>On the sidewalk.<br>I won't go,  
>Until you come outside.<em>

_Check yes Juliet,  
>Kill the limbo,<br>I'll keep tossing rocks,  
>At your window.<br>There's no turning back,  
>For us tonight.<em>

_Lace off your shoes,  
>Here's how we do.<em>

_Run, baby, run,  
>Don't ever look back,<br>They'll tear us apart,  
>If you give them the chance.<br>Don't sell your heart,  
>Don't say we're not meant to be.<br>Run, baby, run,  
>Forever we'll be,<br>You and me. _

Clary sang along the lyrics, even making an air guitar. From the corner of her eye, she could see Maia tapping on the steering wheel, making it her official drum set. They sang the whole song, every word, every breath. Once they were done, they were exhausted enough to let the radio station play their music without them interfering and singing every five seconds.

"We're here," said Maia, and only then did Clary realize she'd been staring out the window, not paying a single ounce of her attention to the road.

There was the small recording studio. VERLAC RECORDING COMPANY said the label at the top of the building. It was a considerably big building, considering the usual size of recording company buildings. Clary jumped out of the car and shut the door, glancing back to the company building only to find the face she'd been dreading to see staring back at her.

"You said he wasn't here," Clary said through gritted teeth.

Maia looked like she wanted to die in a hole. "I may or may not have lied."

In front of them, leaned against the nearest wall, stood Sebastian Verlac, a cocky smile twisting his features, making his black hair and eyes look more threatening than usual.

And he was looking right at Clary.

**Thankfully, I'm not too lazy to do this again.**

****I, camibandlover, do not own TMI or the two songs (Love Story by T. Swift and Check Yes Juliet by We The Kings) in this story. I merely own the storyline. I hope you understand that I am not out of high school, not a redhead, and do not live in New York. I do not have Cassie Clare's life. I've never spoken to Alex Pettyfer. (I know. Saddening.) So, therefore, I own nothing but the plot.** **


	7. Chapter 7

**Umm, hi guys. :DD I'm here, just wondering what to say to ya'll…**

**Well, for one, I'd like to thank all of you for reading and reviewing. ;D Shit's about to get interesting, that's for sure.**

**I'd like to thank maxwaylandgrey, for the pictures, our new names, and editing. Oh, and being an overall awesome friend. (: I'd also like to thank, uh, SportyNo1, because she is awesomeee, and she's mailin****g me a letter WITH CHOCOLATE and A SURPRISE. I CANNOT WAIT. And a huge, massive thanks to **** BAmbi Magenta ANn, for always leaving the most wonderful reviews. (:**

****I do not own TMI or the wonderful song in this chapter.****

**The song, in case any of you ever wonder, is called "Skinny Love," and I listen to the version by Birdy, but there's also the original one by Bon Iver. (:**

**Enjoy…and review? :)**

The story of how Clary met Sebastian was fairly simple. She had been a girl who wanted to be a musician, who wanted to be somebody. Her mother had told her of a studio, one she could record music in. Clary loved to paint and play the guitar. Two art-related things. She had a hard time finding someone who was compatible to her, someone who'd understand.

"This is gonna be fun!" Maia had said when they first drove to the studio. Her mother had paid for ten days.

"I know!" Clary beamed at her friend. She hadn't felt so happy in a long time, not since before her mother became a bitch.

They had pulled onto the parking lot that was, at the time, completely empty. The first thing Clary saw when she walked to the building was a boy. He was smoking, he reeked of alcohol, and, just like that, he said hello.

"Hey," Clary had said, desperate to get away from him as fast as possible.

"I'm Sebastian Verlac." He'd pointed at the sign of the studio and said, "My family owns the place."

"Oh." Clary smiled at that. "Hi. Um, do you know where the room 2B is?"

"I'll take you," Sebastian said quickly, dropping his cigarette on the floor and stomping on it with his foot. Clary and Maia followed him inside, into the studio. It was pretty big, with red walls full of bestselling records. Clary eyed them with awe as they passed by, walking through long corridors that seemed endless.

"Here." Sebastian held the door open for both girls. Maia seemed appalled by the boy's manners, while Clary was feeling the same, only more at ease. She hadn't felt like a total loony with boys—she had friends who were boys, like Simon, and she didn't feel all awkward around him.

"Well," he'd said, "I'd better get going."

"Wait," Clary blurted out. "I don't know how to work these." She pointed at the set of technical machinery in front of the actual recording room. Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

"Need help?"

Without hesitation, without a single doubt, Clary said, "Yes."

He gave her a mischievous smile, one that managed to look secretive and sexy and smart and everything she wanted it to be.

And, just like that, she fell for him.

###

"Clarissa." Sebastian stood in front of her. "Nice to see you're back in Los Angeles. Miss me?"

"Fuck off, Verlac." She tried to push past him, but he wouldn't let her enter the building. What the hell was he, the place's freaking body guard?

"Now, now," he said. "Be nice. Aren't you gonna give me a hug?"

Clary snorted. "In your dreams, maybe."

"Oh, in my dreams, there is much more action."

She wanted to punch him until his nose broke and blood oozed all over the place, staining his shirt, making him drop to his knees. Unfortunately, being a small, weak girl, she couldn't do that without most of the damage being caused to her instead of him.

"Get out," she ordered him.

"This is my place, darling."

"Get out of my way," she said, not bothering to meet his eyes and call him stupid. It wouldn't work. Nothing would.

"As you wish, milady." He bowed, very dramatically, and stepped out of the way. Without a word, rolling her eyes, she stormed past him.

The place looked almost identical as it did before, its red walls with records and pictures still amazing the hell out of Clary. She eyed them up and down, skimming through the names and dates and people in pictures.

"Clary."

Maia snapped her out of her daze by calling her name.

"Coming," said Clary. She walked faster, averting her eyes from the never-ending wall of awesome records. They stopped abruptly in front of a room.

2B.

She was going to die.

"Go in," Sebastian said. Once, three years ago, they had done things in that room that would forever stay there. Once, he had held her while she sang at the top of her lungs, exploding his ears when he heard it later at night. But now? Now, she wanted another room in another studio.

But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

It was just as she remembered. White walls with more records. Instruments lying around inside the actual recording booth. A bunch of amps and technical stuff outside. And a huge glass window separating the two sides of the room, one she was thankful for.

"I know how to handle this," Maia said to Sebastian, trying to take over the technical stuff.

"Oh, no, I'd rather." He winked. "Would you mind leaving us alone?"

"Actually," Clary said, "I mind."

"As do I," Maia said, clearly remembering everything that had happened between Clary and Sebastian.

"Too bad," he growled. "I own the place."

"You don't own us," Clary said, lifting up her chin defiantly. "And we paid."

"That doesn't matter," he said.

"I have the receipt. I can sue," she threatened.

Sebastian looked at her, his eyes cold and desperate and something else she couldn't quite place a finger on. He yanked at his hair, looking around the room. Finally, he relaxed. He looked calm, so unlike him Clary had to blink fast for a few seconds. It was him. There was no changing that.

"Fine," he said with a sigh. "But, even if it's by phone, I need to talk to you."

"I don't wanna hear it," she said. "So I won't pick up."

"I'll make you."

"Oh, but you can't."

"Goodbye, Clarissa."

She said nothing as he closed the room's door. Everything was quiet.

"Let's start," Clary said quietly.

"Covers first? To warm up?" asked Maia, already sitting in the rolling chair in front of the machinery.

"Yeah," Clary replied, sitting in front of the microphone. "Voice first?"

"Sure," Maia said. "We'll do the rest later."

"Wait," Clary said. "Can we do this, like, a live-version show kind of thing? Where I can record with both the guitar and my voice?"

Maia chuckled. "Sure, Clary."

Clary beamed, stood up, and walked over to get an acoustic guitar from the various instruments that stood in the room. She walked back to her chair, adjusted the guitar and tried it out. She smiled, closed her eyes, and sighed. She missed playing the guitar.

"Okay." Clary opened her eyes. "Let's start."

"Got it," Maia said, adjusted a few things, and gave Clary a thumbs up.

_It started out as a feeling,  
>Which then grew into a hope,<br>Which then turned into a quiet thought,  
>Which then turned into a quiet word.<br>And then that word grew louder and louder,  
>'Till it was a battle cry,<br>I'll come back,  
>When you call me.<br>No need to say goodbye._

_Just because everything's changing,  
>Doesn't mean it's never,<br>Been this way before.  
>All you can do is try to know who your friends are,<br>As you head off to the war.  
>Pick a star on the dark horizon,<br>And follow the light.  
>You'll come back,<br>When it's over,  
>No need to say goodbye.<br>You'll come back,  
>When it's over,<br>No need to say goodbye. _

She sang the rest of the songs, her fingers easily playing every note correctly, her voice reaching the notes it needed to. When she finished the song, she opened her eyes. Maia smiled and gave her a wink, and then asked if Clary would do another cover.

"Just one more," Clary said.

"Okay." Maia shrugged. "Whenever you're ready."

"Yeah," Clary said, reaching into her tote bag to get a sheet of paper with the words "SKINNY LOVE" written on top of it. She loved the song.

She placed it on her lap in a way that she could still play. She practiced it for a few minutes. When she got it right, she gave Maia two thumbs up, their sign for "ready," and started to play.

_Come on skinny love just last the year__  
><em>_Pour a little salt we were never here__  
><em>_My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my__  
><em>_Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer_

The song made Clary go back to when she first met Maia. They were roommates, assigned together to get themselves through the school year—though Clary was kicked out before she could finish, and so it didn't count.

Clary had gone inside the room, a bit hesitantly at first. It was one of her first boarding schools. She still knew nothing about how it worked in California. After all, this was a land she _didn't _want, but one that was far away from New York, which was what she ultimately wanted. The room was eerily silent for a while, and Clary was about to call out for her roommate—the paper said her name was Maia—just when a choked sob escaped from someone's mouth.

It came from the bathroom.

When Clary opened the unlocked door, she found herself staring at a red sink.

_Wait, _she thought, and that was when she let her eyes slide to the floor. There was a girl sitting in fetal position, clutching her arm.

Clary paid more attention to the blood for a second. Blood. Red. Too much red. And the girl, sitting on the floor like she was going to die, and maybe she was.

No.

Clary couldn't let that happen. She picked up the girl and told her it was going to be okay. She had learned about this the year before in Health class. She took a towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around the girl's bleeding wound.

"Who are you?" the girl asked, her curious brown eyes peering at Clary.

"Clary," she replied. "Your new roommate."

"I am so sorry," Maia said.

And then she passed out.

_I tell my love to wreck it all__  
><em>_Cut out all the ropes and let me fall__  
><em>_My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my__  
><em>_Right in the moment this order's tall_

Maia had a boyfriend. His name was Jordan, he told Clary. Clary had smiled at Jordan, a bit panicky, and said Maia was at the hospital—nurse, whatever. She was going to be transferred into an actual hospital later. He panicked and asked her to take him. They snuck out of the school. He paid for the cab.

And when they got to the hospital, there she was.

"Promise me," Jordan told her. "Never again."

"Jordan," Maia said weakly. "I love you."

"I love you too," he replied, his voice unflinchingly honest.

"Really?"

"Forever," he replied. "But you need to get better."

"I promise."

Clary felt that the moment was too private for her to watch. She snuck out of the room quietly and waited until he exited. She noticed the tears in his eyes, but she said nothing.

"She'll be okay," he said, mostly to himself. "She has to be."

She turned out to be okay, but Clary would never forget the blood in the sink, the girl on the floor, and the way this song made her thing about it. 

_I told you to be patient__  
><em>_I told you to be fine__  
><em>_I told you to be balanced__  
><em>_I told you to be kind__  
><em>_In the morning I'll be with you__  
><em>_But it will be a different "kind"__  
><em>_I'll be holding all the tickets__  
><em>_And you'll be owning all the fines___

_Come on skinny love what happened here__  
><em>_Suckle on the hope in lite brassiere__  
><em>_My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my__  
><em>_Sullen load is full; so slow on the split___

_I told you to be patient__  
><em>_I told you to be fine__  
><em>_I told you to be balanced__  
><em>_I told you to be kind__  
><em>_Now all your love is wasted?__  
><em>_Then who the hell was I?__  
><em>_Now I'm breaking at the britches__  
><em>_And at the end of all your lines___

_Who will love you?__  
><em>_Who will fight?__  
><em>_Who will fall far behind?___

Maia had tears in her eyes by the time Clary was done. Clary could tell she was remembering, too.

"I loved it," the girl on the other side of the room whispered.

###

By the time Clary came back from wherever she had gone to, Jace was falling asleep on her bed. He thought it'd be nice, having her walk in and seeing him on her bed. She'd slap him, sure, but he liked it when she got mad.

She was apologizing to Max one room away, saying that what she had gone out to do shouldn't have taken that long. Max, however, didn't mind. He was too busy staring at her in awe to care—or so Jace thought. And he knew he was right, because he was always right.

"Let me just get these in my room," said Clary.

"I'll follow you," Isabelle said, her voice holding a hint of amusement.

Just then, Jace's phone rang—loudly. "Shit," he muttered, and then he hit the green button. "What?"

"Jace." It was Alec. "Youhavetocometothehousenow." Every word he said came out rushed.

"Repeat," Jace said.

"Now. To the house. A woman is claiming to be your grandmother. She wants to take you away."

He lifted his head and saw Clary standing in the doorway with Isabelle by her side.

"I'm on my way." __

"Jace," said Isabelle, blocking him from exiting the room.

He looked at her pleadingly. "Izzy, I have to go."

"What's wrong?"

"I'll explain later. Or call Alec. But stay here with Max, okay? Trust me," Jace said.

She handed over the keys. "Fine."

"I'll call you later," Jace said. "Keep Max away."

"Can you at least give me a hint?"

"Apparently, I have family now."

###

Jace knocked on the door two times before it swung open, revealing three people: a very pissed off Maryse, an equally pissed Alec, and a murderous-looking old lady who he could tell was a total bitch. She looked uptight.

"Jace." She eyed him up and down. "You look just like your father."

"You mean the asshole who abandoned me when I was a little kid?"

"He was _not_ an asshole. Your father wanted the best for you," said the woman.

"Imogen," Maryse said, looking like she wanted to break the woman in half but could not do such a thing. "Just leave."

"I'll end you," she threatened, "if you don't give me my grandson."

"End me, then." Maryse stepped forward.

"We're not related," Jace said, and then slammed the door on the bitch's face. He heard a huff from the other side, a probable threat, and then the sound of her heels as she walked away, back to her car and away from his home.

"Heartless bitch," Maryse spat, and Jace fought the urge to cringe. He'd never heard her talk like that before—ever. She wasn't the type of person to curse, but there she was, cursing like she never had before, and she probably wasn't ashamed of it. She moved away from Jace.

"I couldn't let them take you," Maryse said loudly, and he followed her voice. She was taking a glass out of the dishwasher. Then, she went to the alcohol cabinet and took out a whiskey bottle. Quickly, she served some onto the cup and gulped it down. She shivered and closed her eyes.

"Maryse," Jace said. "I won't let them take me away."

She was by her third shot now. "What am I going to do? I can't prevent this. What if she's right? We're your legal guardians, but what if . . . I don't know, she figures something out? What happens then?" She was about to swallow the fourth shot but Jace stopped her, taking it away from her gently. He closed the bottle and placed it back in the cabinet. He placed the glass in the dishwasher. When Jace turned back to look at Maryse, she looked about ready to cry. Something softened up inside him.

He hugged her awkwardly, a one-shouldered hug that lasted about five seconds. "It'll be fine."

"Will it?" she asked, and she looked so vulnerable that she rendered Jace speechless for a second.

"Yes." He sounded more like his usual, confident self. "But promise me one thing?"

"What?" Maryse asked. She'd do anything to keep him home, and he knew that, but she wasn't going to like what he'd be proposing.

"Stop drinking," Jace said. Before she started to protest, he cut her off by saying, "For me."

"Fine," she said after thinking about it for a long time. "But only because the court will look for anything—any flaw, any bad thing—to keep us apart."

"I'm right here, Maryse," Jace said. "And this is where I'll always be. I promise."


	8. Chapter 8

**Um, hi guys. :3 Here's the next chapter. Um, yeah, I'm sleepy, so…I'll just thank maxwaylandgrey for being there all the time, no matter what, and for being Max Horan now. :DD Bitch, we be the best people evuh. Camille Styles and Max Horan, ftw! ;DD Anyways, thanks to SportyNo1 for being such a sweetheart. :3 And thank you to everyone who reviews. Love you all. xx**

**Review? :)**

"Are you sure?" Isabelle asked, mouth hanging open. She was still on the phone. Clary knew there was something wrong, but she didn't have the guts to ask. It was something within the family, and she wouldn't interfere with their business. After all, she had spent most of the time since she got to California trying to make herself not care for Jace—and for _him_, and for everything that had happened in the place years before. But she couldn't help but wonder what was going on. Was Jace okay? What if he wasn't?

"Fine," said Isabelle. "I'll be there in two hours. You better explain this." She hung up the phone and then looked at Clary. "What?"

"Nothing," Clary said, shaking her head. She hadn't known she was staring.

"You want to know what's going on." Isabelle sighed and sat on the edge of Clary's bed. "Is Max around?"

"No, he's downstairs," Clary replied. Truthfully, she didn't know. She didn't care if he was around, because she cared too much about Jace—more than she'd ever admit—and she needed to know what was going on.

"Okay." Isabelle took a deep breath. "I'm not telling you what's going on. But," she added, "I will tell you this: don't get too close to Jace."

"I don't want to."

"But," Isabelle said, "you will. I know him, and I know you, and I know you like him more than you'd ever admit."

_Damn it, _Clary thought.

"So what if I do?" She paced around her room. "It doesn't make any difference."

"The boy would die for you."

"He would not," Clary argued.

"He wouldn't, true, but he wants you."

"In his bed."

"Yeah," Isabelle said. "But that's the only way he's capable of wanting anyone."

"That's what he wants you to believe," Clary said. "I know people like him. And is it weird that I feel like I know him?"

"Yes." Isabelle didn't hesitate. Clary knew she thought it was weird.

"Well, then, I'll just say I know people like him. I know what he wants you to believe. And I've seen the real Jace—or a glimpse of it. And let me tell you, I regret pushing him away sometimes." Clary sighed. "I just do."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Your brother is not a total dickhead."

"And?" Isabelle said, confused.

"And it hurts him sometimes that it's all you expect him to be."

"How would you know?" Isabelle asked, daring Clary to come up with a good enough excuse.

She smiled and said, "Because I've been there."

"I have to go." Isabelle stood up quickly. "Where's Max?"

"Kitchen." Clary wouldn't meet Isabelle's stare. "Bye."

"Clary?" Isabelle said, voice small. "Call me Izzy."

Clary smiled. "Bye, Izzy."

"You're not mad?"

"For what?"

"I don't know," Isabelle said with a shrug. Then, she turned around and exited Clary's room, leaving her confused and with a million questions.

They were all about Jace. Was she right? Wrong? What would she do?

She fell asleep in her bed, her daily clothing still on. She didn't care if someone walked in on her. She just wanted to forget about the men in her life . . . and about everything else.

###

"What do we do now?" Isabelle asked her mother, sighing. Jace stood behind the slightly ajar door, hoping the two people inside that room didn't catch him. He knew that these words would never be repeated in front of him. He had to take a chance and listen to what their actual thoughts were.

"I don't know." Maryse took a swig of the glass of tequila she'd poured herself. "All I know is that I won't let them take my son away."

_My son. _The words echoed through Jace's mind. He didn't realize that the Lightwoods cared so much about him. He just figured it was part of keeping him, but it wasn't. He didn't know if he should be grateful for it or if he should leave already, save them the pain.

_You can't leave, _he told himself. _If you leave, you don't see Clary again. _He sighed, knowing that the voice in his head was right. He couldn't leave his siblings or Clary. He hated the connection there was between them, but he wouldn't push her away. He needed her to be there for him. She was a challenge, and Jace Wayland loved challenges.

". . . else did they say?" Isabelle's voice brought Jace back to the present, to the conversation his mom and sister were having.

"They said that the man was powerful," Maryse said. "That he had a reason."

"But it was an old lady who visited, right?"

"Yes, in behalf of a man. Or so they said later on, anyway," said Maryse, who sounded horrified at the thought of losing Jace. He imagined she was. After all, she raised him, basically. If it wasn't for her, Jace would be dead, or somewhere less pleasant, without Max or Alec or Isabelle. As unpleasant as his sister might be, he couldn't imagine life without her. She was a routine in his life, somebody to mess with when nobody was available, somebody to turn to when he needed help.

"Did they say how the man planned on taking Jace away?" Isabelle asked.

"He said he had . . . something. Evidence of some sort. But they're not related. He just . . . knew Jace's parents, I'm guessing." Maryse drunk more of her tequila, which Isabelle took gently from her mother's hands.

"Mom," Isabelle said to her, voice gentle. "Nothing bad will happen. Jace won't leave us. I promise."

"You don't know that, Izzy," her mother whispered. Jace felt something in his chest constrict. How would he be able to deal with this? He wouldn't be able to take the sight of his mother trying not to cry while he drove away on some stranger's car, but it seemed like there was a fat chance of him staying.

"We'll find a way," Isabelle assured her mother, but Jace knew she was as lost as the rest of them were.

"I'm gonna go take a shower. It'll help me clear my mind," Maryse said, and Jace cursed inwardly, moving gracefully toward the stairs and hoping she wouldn't catch him eavesdropping.

Jace made it upstairs seconds before Maryse ascended the same stairs. He pretended he was going downstairs then, since he hadn't gotten the food he wanted at the beginning.

"Jace," Maryse said, as if she'd expected him to disappear. "Where are you going?"

"Kitchen," he said. "Why?"

"If you go out, be careful, okay?" Maryse said. She was never the type to be protective. She knew her children could fend for themselves, but Jace knew she was all too worried about the newest problem. He nodded and said nothing. He didn't want to say something he'd regret later on.

He started walking toward the kitchen, but Maryse's voice stopped him. "If you're gonna go out, tell someone in the family."

Suddenly, it all felt like too much to him. His freedom just vanished, all because some bitch and some jackass wanted to take him away from his family. He balled his hands into fists and said, "I'm gonna go for a walk, actually. I'll be back in about two hours. Don't wait up," he added, and then went to the fridge got a water bottle, and ran outside. It was raining, almost pouring, but Jace didn't mind. He went around the house until he was in the back, which was the side of the beach. He ran on the sand, which sometimes got in his shoe, annoying the hell out of him. But it didn't matter, because he knew where he wanted to be, even though he didn't know how to explain it to the person.

Clary's house was in front of him about fifteen minutes later. He knocked hard on the door until someone, which turned out to be her mother, opened the door.

"Hi," he said, feeling the water dripping all over.

"I'll get you a towel and Clary." Jocelyn hurried off into the house, closing the door on his face, probably to keep the water from getting in the house. Jace waited outside, tapping his fingers on his sides absentmindedly, until the door opened. There, in her pajamas, was Clary, her curly red hair messy, her eyes looking tired. She held a towel in one hand. Her eyes widened as she saw who it was. Wordlessly, she handed him the towel.

"Hi," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"It's complicated," he said with a smirk. He dried his hair and exposed skin, then wrapped the towel around him and followed Clary inside.

"Take your shoes off," she blurted out, looking mortified afterward.

"Sure," Jace said, taking them off and leaving them outside. He was walking barefoot now, examining the house with more care. He'd been there before, but he didn't notice the little things, like the chipped painting in the ceiling, though it was very, very unnoticeable for other people. He doubted Clary would want to know he noticed, so he followed her up the stairs and into her room.

"Take a warm shower," she said. "I'll bring you a towel and some dry clothes."

He nodded, loving the idea of taking a shower in Clary's bathroom. _If only she was in the shower with me. _

"Don't even think about it," she said, clearly reading the look on his face. He chuckled as he watched her go, ignoring the empty feeling, the disappointment of not having her there in a shower with him.

Jace stepped inside the bathroom. It was all white, except for the green and purple curtain, and the band posters on the walls. He smiled. She had the posters even in her bathroom. He peeled his wet clothing off, leaving it in the corner, and stepped inside. He was greeted by warm water. Every inch of his body relaxed, and then he started thinking about Clary. She was coming in a few seconds. If only he could get her to join in—

"Jace?" Clary's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I'm going in, okay?"

"Sure," Jace said, biting back a smile. He heard the door open, and then footsteps.

"Reach out for the towel," Clary said.

"Okay." Jace peeked through the curtain and saw her standing there and he knew, just then, that he had to get her to join the shower. When she shot her hand out, he grabbed her arms instead, and pulled her close. He was surprised by her lack of fight.

"Join me," he whispered in her ear.

Her eyes were closed, but even he knew what she was thinking. _It's just one summer. _

"Sure. But," she said, "wear your underwear." She grabbed his wet underwear and chucked it at him, and he turned around and slipped it on. He turned around and, much to his surprise, she was still standing there.

"I'm going with all of my clothes on," she said.

"That's fine by me." He grinned and reached out for her. Tentatively, she took his hand and went in with him, her clothing immediately soaked, her t-shirt and short shorts clinging to her skin. She wrapped her arms around herself.

"Why'd you want me to join?" They were pressed against each other, close enough to hear their heartbeats. If he wanted to, he could kiss her. He could have her.

But he didn't.

"Because I want to get to know you," Jace said stupidly.

"In a shower?" She raised her eyebrows. "Somehow, I don't think it's the best place to get acquainted with someone."

"I know." He pulled her closer to him until their bodies were touching. "But you're not just someone."

Her heart pounded wildly against her chest. _God, she's beautiful, _Jace thought, cupping her face with his hands. He wanted to kiss her so badly.

And he did. He took her in his arms and pinned her against the wall of the shower and kissed her. She tried to fight him off at first, but he was too strong, and she didn't want to resist it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, keeping him there until they were out of breath, panting. Jace couldn't get over how amazing she was, how amazing that was.

"I need to go," she said, and stumbled out of the shower. She took his towel. "I'll, um, bring you a new one."

She bolted out of the bathroom before he could say another word.

###

"You should go back to your house, you know." Clary didn't look at Jace as she spoke, just toyed with an invisible string that hung from her shirt.

"I was wondering if I could stay here," Jace replied tentatively.

"You can't," Clary blurted out.

"Why not?" he asked.

"My mom would . . . she'd freak out," she said finally, trying to decide whether she'd freak out more than her mother or not. They couldn't, under any circumstances, let him stay. If he stayed, they'd get closer. And if they got closer, she'd be forced to get to know him. She knew that if she got to know him, she might like him.

Jace sighed and stood up. "Yeah, I guess I should go."

Clary nodded. _It's the right thing to do, _she chanted over and over again, leading him toward the door.

"I'll let myself out." He sounded hurt, which Clary supposed he was. She sighed, nodded, and sat back in bed. He stood there, frozen, as if he might say or do something.

That was when she realized, all of a sudden, that she couldn't let him go. Not anymore.

"Jace," she said quickly, before she could stop herself. "Wait."

"Yes, Clary?"

"Would you—would you like to stay?" she offered hesitatingly.

"Sleeping? Here?" His eyebrows rose and her cheeks heated up.

"Yes." She sounded kind of ashamed, but she wouldn't let it show.

"I'd love to."

The next hour, they spent it sneaking around the house and making him a mattress bed. When it was done, both were pretty proud of their work.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Clary asked.

"Sure," Jace said. He took out his phone. "You pick. I've gotta call home."

"Okay," she said and, without questioning him, walked out the door to look for some movies. She stayed outside, though, where he couldn't see her.

"Maryse? Yeah, it's me. I'm staying over at Clary's." He paused. "No, her mother doesn't know. Yes, it's fine. Okay. Bye." He hung up. Clary walked as lightly as she could out of the hallway and into the living room. Jace joined her there after a breathless sprint down the stairs. Even though Clary was wearing a jacket over her tank top, she suddenly felt very naked. He looked wonderful, his blond hair about to cover his wonderful golden eyes. Clary, of course, yearned for his touch. Again, she couldn't let it show.

"You choose, since you're here, and I'll make the popcorn."

"Sure," Jace said. "Be back with my choices."

Clary walked into the kitchen pantry and took out two bags of popcorn. She loved to eat, and so did Jace. On second thought, she took out an extra bag and placed them one by one on the microwave, waiting for them to heat up and pop before placing the next one. The huge, red bowl of popcorn she always loved was full up to the very top. Satisfied, Clary walked out the door and into the living room.

"Okay, so . . . it's between Harry_ Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Scream, _or _Clue._"

"Clue," Clary said without hesitation. "It's my favorite old movie."

"Clue it is."

Up the stairs they went, back into her room. She set up the movie and climbed into the bed. Jace was beside her in a matter of seconds, and the movie started. She could barely focus—which never happened, considering this was one of her favorite movies and a classic, at least for her—because of him, of course. She felt him sitting by her side, every movement he made, every breath he took. She wondered if he was as aware of her as she was of him, but then she decided not to worry about it. Even if he was, there was no way they'd end up having a long-term relationship. She was going to school someplace else and so was he, both away from each other and away from their so-called relationship. It was better to remain friends. Yet when his leg touched hers by accident, her skin tingled and the butterflies in her stomach batted their wings wildly, as if trying to break free from a prison. Clary glared at her belly before taking a big chunk of popcorn. She found that she wasn't as hungry at first, but she kept eating anyway.

"I have to pee," Clary said all of a sudden. "Pause it, will you?"

"Sure." Jace shrugged and reached for the remote. He clicked the "Pause" button on it and waited until Clary stood up and left—that was when he started pacing. In the bathroom, Clary was trying hard not to break down into delirious tears or fits of laughter.

_Calm down, _she told herself, splashing water on her face and taking a few deep breaths. When she was ready to exit the bathroom and face him, she flushed the toilet, pretended to wash her hands, and went outside. He was still lying down in bed, looking cool and collected, unlike her. She was freaking out on the inside when she joined him on the bed.

By the time the movie was over, Jace was whisper-shouting, "No way!" and, "I totally knew that!" Clary smiled at his reaction to it, for it was the same reaction she had all the time to it. She let her head rest on his shoulder, and before she knew it, she was wrapped up in a blanket.

"Goodnight, Clary." Jace kissed the top of her head.

"Night," she mumbled, and she was fast asleep within seconds.

****I don't own TMI** **


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello, world! It's MaxWaylandGrey! ;) Camille's laptop's charger exploded, so she was unable to upload this chapter. Unfortunately, she's okay. -.- Lmao! Anyways, she would like to thank me for being the awesomest person I am. ;) She said that herself. She also wants to thank someone who is number one on my hitlist, SportyNo1, for, supposedly, being "awesome" and for "always being a good friend unlike Max". I'm being nice enough to write exactly what she told me to write. :D Now, because of the Charger Incident that failed to kill her, Camille won't be able to send me her chapters in order for me to beta in about three to five weeks because she sucks. And because Walmart and Best Buy doesn't sell her charger. Sp, go read while I make Cams's life miserable. ;)**

* * *

><p>When Clary woke up the next day, Jace was long gone. His side of the bed was still messy, but he wasn't there anymore. Worried, about to panic, she scrambled up from bed and opened her closet, about to throw some clothing on and go look for him.<p>

But there he was half-naked, mouth open slightly. She couldn't help but stare at him. He was gorgeous through her eyes. She looked away quickly, a blush creeping on her face.

"See anything you like?" he said, wiggling his eyebrows. She turned around and glared, which backfired since he was half-naked still. She groaned and exited her closet, letting herself fall back in the bed. He made her feel things no one had ever made her feel before, and it freaked her out in many ways.

"Totally not," Clary replied, just as someone knocked at her door.

"Clary?" Simon's voice was muffled by the distance and thickness of the walls. _Saved by the bell . . . or, rather, by the nerdy best friend. But a savior is a savior no matter what, _she thought to herself, and then walked over to the door.

"Hey, Si," Clary said. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to show you around. I—I've been busy."

Simon's eyebrows rose as he saw Jace, half-naked, struggling with his jeans. "Busy is right, it seems."

Clary turned bright red. "It's not like that," she mumbled.

"Sadly," was Jace's only reply.

"I'm sorry I haven't been spending time with you, as I was saying," she continued.

"How about today?" Simon said. "And it's okay. The first day, I slept. And today I went out. I know that yesterday was technically the first day, but . . . I slept through half of it. Time difference or . . . laziness. Whichever works for you as an excuse." He shrugged.

Clary grinned. "Where'd you go?"

"I came from the fair at about midnight," Simon said sheepishly. "I met a wonderful girl." He had this dreamy look in his face, one Clary knew he only reserved for, as he said, "wonderful girls."

"What's her name?" Clary asked with a laugh. She'd have fun teasing him.

"Isabelle."

"What?" Jace and Clary said at the same time, their faces full of shock and disbelief at the same time.

"Do you . . . know her?" he asked tentatively.

"Damn right I know her." Jace was moving toward Simon, looking a bit pissed, and Clary couldn't understand why. She put a hand on his bare chest and her face flamed.

"Please, stop. Look," Clary said, "Simon is great. He and Izzy . . . they're good for each other."

"He," Jace said, pointing at Simon, "is a nerd. Isabelle is . . . Isabelle. There's no way." He shook his head in denial.

"Ignore him," Clary said, giving Simon a squeeze. "Let's go for a walk."

"That'd be great," Simon said.

"But first, we must wait for Princess here to finish cleaning up."

"Why'd he stay?" Simon asked Clary.

"Because . . . I don't know," she said truthfully. "We'll talk about it later, okay? Jace, hurry up!"

Jace was almost done cleaning up, or so Clary observed. Almost running out patience, Clary stormed out of her room and down the stairs, into the kitchen. She took an apple and bit down, hard. Pain filled her mouth, as she obviously hurt herself, but she didn't care. She opened her fridge, got a soda out, and drunk from it.

"Hope it's not a beer," said Luke from the doorway, grinning.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Clary replied with an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes.

"Where are you headed?"

"How'd you know I was headed somewhere?" She was still in her pajamas.

"You're awake," he pointed out, "and there's noise."

"I'm gonna walk with Simon."

"There are two boys upstairs, Clary, and one of them is not your friend." Luke sounded very serious all of a sudden, and it scared her. She grew up without having an actual father, though Luke acted like one all of the time. She'd rather have no father. It gave her more freedom.

"Luke," she said through gritted teeth. "They're both my friends, okay? Simon and Jace spent the night chasing after some chicks at the carnival while I was at a movie. They slept over here. Happy?" She stormed out of the kitchen and into her room. Simon and Jace lingered in the hallway, arguing about something completely pointless she didn't even want to hear, and she emerged into her room, shutting the door loudly behind her. She took out a black V-neck shirt and some black shorts, slipping them on in less than a minute. She brushed her hair while putting on her combat boots. She was done. Taking her iPod, she exited her room and almost ran into Jace.

"About time," he said, eyeing her. "I was getting ready to look for you."

"Great," Clary muttered. "You're still here."

"Almost gone," he said, sounding almost like a promise. But then, in her ear, he whispered, "I'll be back tonight," before clearing his throat and saying goodbye to Simon and her. After the front door shut, she let out a slow breath.

"You're telling me about it—all about it, not just some of it—on the way to the nearest video game store."

With a sigh, Clary nodded and descended the stairs, her best friend by her side, and everything replaying in her mind.

###

"Where have you been?" Maryse demanded, her face full of rage, her hands on her hips. Jace knew he should've called, but he'd forgotten. It usually happened when he had a girl sleeping by his side. Only, every time that happened, there had been more than kissing. _Unlike this time_, he thought.

"I was at Clary's," Jace replied with a shrug, trying to look nonchalant.

"You could've called!" she snapped at him. "I was so worried." Her tone softened, and he felt himself relax.

"I didn't think you'd jump into conclusions," he said. "You know I can take care of myself, Maryse. Stop worrying about it. I know how to deal with my own life." He didn't mean to sound so harsh, but the whole thing was crazy. Wouldn't these people go after him before? Maybe they had, and she didn't even notice. But that wasn't what worried him. What worried him was that she'd go totally crazy and overprotective. He didn't want that, much less needed it.

"I'm sorry, Jace. I know it must be hell for you right now, but I'm worried I'll lose you." Maryse took a step closer to him, letting her arms fall on her sides. "I'll try to be less . . . protective of you." She smiled sadly.

"Don't be sorry," he told her. "It's fine, I get it. But you don't need to protect me, Maryse. I can do that on my own."

"I'll try," she said, and that was that. She walked out of her room, high heels clanking against the marble floor as usual.

Jace shook his head and opened the fridge, taking out a slice of cold pizza and heating it up in the microwave. He pulled out his phone and texted Clary, whose phone she'd gotten off her this morning while she was sleeping.

_Can't wait until tonight, Freckles. _

He hit send, and then proceeded to eat his pizza. Just when he was taking his last bite, his phone beeped.

_Don't you dare._

He smiled, pleased at the reaction he got from her.

_Too late._

"Jace," said a female voice—Izzy's voice—from behind him. "Glad to see you didn't get too tangled up in Clary's sheets to forget to come home and face Mom's wrath." She grinned. "How was it?"

"How was what?" he asked.

She stared at him, raising her eyebrows.

"We didn't have sex."

"Well," Isabelle said, "that wasn't what I meant, either. I meant, how was Mom's wrath? Endurable?"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, it was . . . yeah."

"And about the sex," Isabelle said, a smirk on her face. "I know Clary would never, ever have sex with you, especially not now."

"You're wrong. She did, after all, take a shower with me. Oh, and we slept on the same bed. I'd say that's progress. Wouldn't you?" With a smirk on his face, he walked up the stairs and into his room, locking his door before collapsing on his bed, clearly unable to stop thinking about anything but Clary.

###

Clary and Simon walked on the beach in silence. She'd refused to tell him about Jace on the trip to the video game store, insisting that she'd tell him when the time was right. He was about to protest, but then he saw the video games and thought better of it. He exited the store with three new games, and then moved on to the comic book store and bought three volumes of some new comics that were, apparently, "the shit." Then, Clary dragged him out to the beach to take a walk, but she refused to speak of Jace.

"You need to spill it," Simon said, and Clary snorted.

"You sound like a girl," Clary said, making no move to "spill" anything.

"I don't care," he said, knowing he had enough manliness and not caring to prove anything. Clary snorted to herself again for knowing how he thought of himself. He didn't degrade his manliness, not even when people insisted he was gay because of the fact that he was a total nerd. Clary loved that he was so sure of himself even when people made him doubt it for a second—or tried to, since they were unsuccessful. She was glad to have him as a friend. He was strong in ways she wasn't. He could take things she couldn't, and he was adorable in every way. She smiled at him.

"Fine," she said. "It's not even that important anyway."

"Then why didn't you tell me before?" Simon asked angrily, but not because of her, because of the fact that he'd had to wait for something unimportant.

"Look, it's important that you know that Jace isn't my type. He's an asshole, a joker, a player . . . and I don't like him that way. I don't know why you need to know, but it is what it is." Clary took a deep breath. "We met at a gala event or something hosted at my house. He had a girlfriend back then." She smiled. "But anyway, I made him know from the very first day that I wasn't interested."

"Then why was he in your bed? Why is it that every time I see you, he's with you?" Simon asked, not accusingly at all, but curiously. Truthfully, Clary had wondered that herself.

"Because he's also made it painfully obvious that he wants to get in my pants," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Not that getting in his wouldn't be nice, but I don't want to. It's not possible." She shook her head.

"Why not, if you seem to both want each other so much?"

"Because we're too different, and he's Jace Wayland. I don't want anyone, especially not someone who will move on after one time."

"Do you think he's really like that? I mean, a guy that will move on so easily wouldn't have kept insisting," Simon said, and Clary had to admit he had a point. _Damn him and his intelligence_, Clary thought. Now she had a reason to consider it, and she didn't want to have a reason. She wanted to move on.

"If you want him," Simon said, eyeing his best friend up and down until she felt self-conscious, "then go ahead and have him. I know he isn't going anywhere. I'm your best friend, Clare, and I wouldn't tell you this if I didn't know how he worked—with you, at least."

"But Simon, Izzy said not to get too attached to him," Clary said. "He's a heartbreaker."

"Because he broke up with his girlfriend?"

"No," Clary said. "No one can accuse a guy of being heartless or a heartbreaker or whatever because they broke up with a girlfriend. I'm saying so because his sister, who knows him better than most people, told me so."

"And she's your friend? And she knows him?"

"Yes and yes," Clary replied, sighing. "Look, Si, I just think I shouldn't get close to him."

"It's too late for that," Simon said. "I saw the way you look at him and he looks at you. It's like you're looking at what you want, at what you could have, but what you're too scared to go after."

"I can't go through this again," she whispered, loud enough so he could hear.

"You won't," he said, pulling her into him. "We're all here. You know better. And no matter what, Clary, he won't break your heart."

"I know he will. Every guy has the ability to break a girl's heart. And mine . . . it's already been broken," she replied. "I know it'll happen again, over and over."

"Don't say that," Simon scolded her. "Everything will be alright. Just let go. You can't tell your heart how to feel."

She eyed him up and down, a grin transforming her features. "When'd you become so wise?" she teased.

He rolled his eyes. "Let's go get some ice cream before I tackle you."

She snorted, feeling much better. "As if you could."

"Clary!"

She spun around, surprised to see Isabelle jumping up and down, waving at her with a smile on her face. Clary waved back, and her friend made her way over to her. Simon gaped at her.

"Why didn't you tell me we were hanging out with Isabelle today?"

Before she could utter a single word, Isabelle was approaching the two and she was within earshot. "Hi," she said, hugging Clary and Simon.

"Hey, Izzy. We were just getting ice cream. Want to join us?" Clary asked.

"Who'd pass on ice cream?" Isabelle asked, a wicked grin on her face.

"Some certainly would." Clary glared at Simon.

"I was _busy_, Fray." He shook his head, probably cursing Clary silently for embarrassing him in front of the "wonderful girl". Clary bit her lip. _Weird how I know so much about him, _she thought with a smile. But, then again, that's how best friends are.

The three of them walked to the ice cream store, happily chatting, oblivious to the fact that someone was watching their every move.

* * *

><p><strong>So, we're doing television comments. WOO! :D<strong>

**_Who do you believe is stalking them? :O  
>Will Jace take Clary to bed? ;)<br>Will Simon be not nerdy enough for Isabelle?  
>Did I totally make up the last ones because Camille sent me only the first one?<em>**

**_I do have the answer to the last one, and it's a yes. ;)_**

**_So, now all you have to do is..._**

**_Review? ;)_**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi guys! So, um, it's me again! My dad got me the computer charger the very next day, and...yeah, this chapter's been ready for a while. Don't hate me! I want to stick to my weekly updates :) Anyway, thanks to maxwaylandgrey, for making me laugh thinking that her babies were pretty. YEAH. RIGHT. Thanks to SportyNo1, for being so nice and caring and awesome ;DD Thanks to everyone who has put this on their alerts and favorites, and of course thank you to everyone who has reviewed. You've made me smile, all of you ;) **

****I do not own TMI. Cassandra Clare does. And, although my name starts with C, it is unfortunately not Cassandra. And my last name is not Clare. I'm sure I've just made my point** **

**Review! :) **

* * *

><p>Jace knew sneaking out of the house wasn't going to get him on Maryse's good graces, but it was all he could do to make it to Clary's by nine, their usual time. It had been one week since they started seeing each other like that, not in secret, but . . . at the same time, in secret. They went out in public, yeah, but most of the "action" happened in the bedroom. Jace was shocked at himself—he hadn't gotten in her pants yet—but he wasn't in a hurry.<p>

"Mom will kill you." Isabelle's voice startled him, causing him to jump back.

"Izzy." He sighed in relief. "You scared me."

"Must be a first," she said appreciatively. "I should stop trying to scare you. Seems to work." She grinned. "Headed over to a certain redhead's house?"

"None of your business," Jace replied.

"I think you are," Isabelle said, and as usual, she was right.

"Whatever," he said, ignoring her when she called out his name. He ran, as he usually did to get to her house, through the backyard. It was the only way he'd get there in time. The other side of the house was a street, as opposed to the back side, which was the beach. His feet pounded against the sand, and he felt some of it get to his shoe. He hated the way it felt. Guess it'd be an excuse to take off some piece of clothing off his body. He grinned at the thought of him and Clary, in bed . . . with nothing on. Then he shook it off. Horny . . . that'd be bad, considering he promised her he wouldn't be too forward.

He finally made it to her house. The doorbell rung about three times before the door swung open, revealing Simon.

"Hi, Jace," he said. "Clary's taking a shower."

"Then it's okay for me to go in," Jace said with a grin, but Simon put a hand on his chest.

"Hell no. It's not," Simon said.

"This is when you threaten you'll break me if I break her?" Jace said, rolling his eyes.

"She's perfectly capable of breaking you herself," Simon said, and Jace shuddered at the words, not because she could break him physically, but because the girl had a hold on him, and yes, she could break him in ways he didn't want to ever be broken.

"I don't doubt that," Jace said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a girl waiting for me."

Simon said nothing, but he let go of Jace, who ran up the stairs. When he got to her bedroom door, he swung it open and closed it gently, as if not to startle her. Her room was messy, as it always was. He didn't care. He walked straight into the bathroom, where she was taking a shower.

"Jace?" she called out.

"Yeah," he said, a grin transforming his features.

"Can you get me some panties and a bra?"

"No problem." Jace exited the bathroom and looked for the underwear she asked for, handing them over to her. He picked lacey ones, just because he knew they'd tick her off, but also because he knew they made her look sexy as hell.

He went in the shower when she said it was okay for him to, as he did every night. She looked as sexy as always, with her underwear clinging to her body. He wasted no time in kissing her and lifting her up, her legs around his waist and hands tugging at his hair, their bodies pressed up against each other, hers against the cold, marble wall, and his against hers. They tried not to slip, but it was impossible at the end. They were on the floor before they could break apart, laughing, splashing water at each other.

"A bubble bath? Really?" Jace asked, smirking.

"I was bored." Clary shrugged, sitting in his lap. "I didn't think you'd come."

"I'll always be here," Jace said, and then he kissed her, a bit softer this time, but she moaned against his throat and even with the annoying sound of the water, it sounded hot to him. He had to stop, or he wouldn't be able to control himself, and then she'd give him hell for it, because, after all, she was a woman.

"Okay." Jace tried to regain his breath, but it wasn't easy. The mere sight of her left him breathless. "Which movie do you wanna watch?"

"How about 'John Tucker Must Die'?" Clary asked with a grin. "It might teach you what I'll do to you if you ever act like John." She tried to say it brightly but failed, a laugh replacing her cheerful tone instead.

"Sure, I'll watch it," Jace said lightly. "Just remember, the girl ended up with the loser."

"The _sweet _loser," she reminded him.

"Not the hot asshole. Who, in my opinion, should've gotten the girl. He _was _truthful," Jace said, in John's defense. The idea of him defending a character made Clary burst out in laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. The point is, she doesn't end up with John, who, in real life, is represented by you." She kissed the tip of his nose lightly.

"And who's the sweet loser, then?" Jace asked innocently.

"I don't know yet," Clary said, smiling. "I'll go look for one tomorrow."

"I'd rather you don't," Jace said, and then immediately cursed himself for it.

"Are you, Jace Wayland, _jealous_?" Clary teased with a smirk.

"No," he scoffed, but she could see it in his eyes.

She clapped, smiling. "You _are_! I never thought this day would come."

"Why not?"

"There's nothing to be jealous of. If anything," Clary said, eyeing him up and down, "I should be the jealous one."

"Why is that, Freckles?" Jace asked, and Clary shifted in his lap.

"Because girls stare at you all the time, and if one of us has got to be jealous, it'll be me."

"I can't believe we're fighting over who's worthy enough to be jealous," Jace said, amused.

"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes and pulled herself up from his lap. "Let's go."

After she got dressed in her pajamas, she tiptoed out of her room and into the room Simon was staying in. She knocked lightly on the door before going inside, surprised to find nobody there. She shrugged and headed over to the closet. In the very corner was the pile of clothing she had for Jace every night. She took a pair of pants, socks, boxers, and a t-shirt. With that, she exited the room and entered her own, glad Simon didn't catch her.

"Here." She tossed Jace the clothing she got for him.

He got dressed inside the bathroom while she waited outside. He wished he could go out and tell her to dress him, but that'd be absurd, ridiculous, and totally inappropriate. Not that he ever cared about that, but this time, if he wanted to sleep over at her house, he needed to care about it. He raked a hand through his messy hair, exhaled, and stepped outside. She was in bed, and the movie was paused at the very beginning.

"John Tucker?" Jace asked her.

"Yup. And then, if we're still up, we watch Scary Movie."

"You have them all?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Awesome."

They sat side by side, her head resting on his shoulder, his arms around her. He wanted so, so badly to kiss her, but he couldn't. He was in the middle of the movie, when those two chicks—the main character and her friend—kiss. He couldn't just kiss Clary, because that'd be awkward. He had to choose some other time, like when the movie was over and the credits were rolling and there was silence, and he could kiss her and there'd be music. But, of course, things never went his way. He couldn't kiss her. He wouldn't.

"Jace?" Clary asked softly, so softly that Jace could barely hear her.

"Yeah?"

She kissed him, cutting off his train of thought. "I'm glad you're not like John."

"I kind of am, you know." Before she started to talk again, he cut her off with a kiss. "I didn't think I could like anyone as much as I like you without getting in her pants."

Clary giggled. "I'm glad you found me, then."

"Cocky, aren't we?" Jace teased.

"Just watch the movie, Jace," she said with a sigh, her head resting in his shoulder again.

When the movie was over and the credits were rolling, they didn't kiss. Clary played the second movie and they laughed in all the right parts, commented in all the fake ones, and kissed when there was nothing to miss. He didn't realize how much he adored these nights until that moment, right then, when Clary asked him quietly if he wanted to go to the fair with Simon, Izzy, and her, and he said yes. He was so happy to have her, and he hadn't realized. He didn't know he held her until she let him know. They watched the movie.

"I love this movie," Clary said, once she was laying on the dark by his side.

"I love it, too. One of my favorites. Max and I watch it all the time."

"Max?"

"He's brave, not scared of anything." Jace smiled proudly. "I'm glad he has nothing to be scared of yet."

"Yeah, me too. He's a cool kid," she said, smiling.

"You should hang out at my place sometime," Jace whispered quietly in her ear.

"I should."

"How about tomorrow, after the fair?" Jace asked her, knowing what her answer would be before she uttered a word.

"It's a date."

###

"We're keeping an eye on them, just as you asked." The person wearing normal summer clothing glanced at the kids he was asked to look after: the short girl with the red hair, the tall guy with the messy blond hair, the tall, dangerous-looking girl who held the nerdy, brown-haired guy's hand. Those four kids, along with the small one who lingered in front of them and led them around, were his task. And he couldn't fail, or else . . . he'd rather not think about the consequences.

"You better be. My future depends on this," the person on the other line said. "You know that if you fail, the boss will order me to kill you. And you also know I won't hesitate."

"Because you can't hesitate," the person spying on the kids replied. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I've heard the speech about a million times. I know what to do. I won't let the boss down."

"You better not," the other person said. "Everyone's life depends on it."

"I said I understand, you fucking idiot!" the person spying said, and some people turned around to stare, but no one gave it much thought. He blended in with the crowd. An angry person throwing a fit wasn't a huge deal in California, considering the many breakups going on, the many teenage kids angry at their parents, the many divorcing couples.

"Don't attract attention," the other person hissed. From his side of the line, there was a loud curse, and then he said, "Shit. The boss is here. Gotta go. Keep an eye on the kid and report later. Remember: everything depends on you."

And then the line went dead.

###

"So, you've decided to go public." Simon regarded his two friends—although Jace's friendship was still questionable, or nonexistent, Clary had asked him to consider him a friend for now, which was stupid, not that he told her that—with a smile.

"Yup." Clary smiled at Jace, and Simon gaped at her. She _smiled. _At a boy. Who wasn't either gay or a best friend or a sibling. What the hell? When had that happened?

"Don't get all lovey-dovey on our asses, though," Isabelle said to them warily. "I mean, it's gross. He's my brother. Just . . . _ewww_. That's disgusting." She shuddered and continued to eat her ice cream.

Clary laughed, while Jace smirked at his stepsister and made kissy faces. "Don't worry," she said, trying to keep Jace from torturing his sister any longer than necessary. "We'll keep in under control."

"Or not," Jace said, and before anyone could even begin to form a new thought, he kissed Clary with everything in him. The kiss tasted like chocolate and strawberry and just a hint of cookie dough. It was cold and sweet and warm, and it made her feel like nothing ever had before. Her hands flew to his hair automatically, and it made it seem like it was much more than the truth.

Simon cleared his throat. "Uh, do you mind?"

"Not at all," Jace said between breaths, continuing to kiss her. Since he didn't move forward with it, Clary knew it was to annoy Simon. She liked seeing him agitated, so she continued just for the hell of it.

"Okay, we're leaving." Just as Isabelle stood up, Jace and Clary broke their kiss, laughing so hard they couldn't breathe, all to annoy the other two.

"That," Simon said, "was torture."

"Indeed," Isabelle agreed with a quick nod of the head. "But, oh well, it's over now."

"Do you want more?" Clary suggested. "Because we could—"

"No, that's fine," Isabelle said, rather quickly. "It was enough."

"Izzy," Simon said, "she was joking."

She swatted him on the arm with her purse. "Shut up, Simon."

Jace rolled his eyes. "Well, if this spectacle is done, I'd like to take Clary out for a walk along the beach."

"Since when did you turn into such a romantic?" Isabelle asked him teasingly, batting her eyelashes suggestively and making kissy faces at him.

"Isabelle, save the energy for lover boy," Jace replied, jerking his chin toward Simon. He stood up, pointedly avoiding her question. "I'm leaving."

"Bye, Romeo!" Isabelle said, waving at him along with Simon, who was clearly enjoying watching Jace become humiliated—in public.

"So," Simon said to Isabelle. "How long do you think they'll last?"

"He's smitten," Isabelle said. "I think it'll last."

"Honestly?" He looked at her with disbelief. "He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to stick with a girl without getting in her pants, and I know Clary well enough she won't give in easily."

"I know her, too," Isabelle said, a bit defensively. She knew she was being ridiculous. Simon had known Clary for longer than she had, yet she was a girl, and she knew how girls acted and felt. All of them? No. Girls were strange, as were boys. But she knew Clary was as smitten as Jace. She believed they'd last. "Trust me," she said, shaking her head free of all her jealous thoughts. "They'll last."

"If you say so," Simon said, slipping an arm around her. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to take you out for a walk."

"Close enough impersonation, but we're not interrupting them. This way," Isabelle said, leading them away from the beach, away from Jace and Clary.

"Yeah, I know. Women," Simon muttered to himself. She swatted his arm again with her purse, but then, when he said, "Hey!" all she did was lean against his shoulder, and they walked like that, hand in hand, looking at the sunset.

###

Clary stood a few feet away from her house's back door, Jace by her side. The question was whether he'd go in with her or not. To anyone, it may seem like a silly question, but to Clary, it was a question that'd change everything. She just didn't realize it yet.

"There's a chance she might not be there," Jace said, as if that'd make it better, but the truth was, it was almost ten, and her mother was obviously in the house.

"Come on in," she said, sighing, watching him go inside her house. The entrance was near the kitchen, and the smell of food was the first thing she noticed when she entered the house. They both walked into the kitchen, surprised to see Simon and Wesley, the cook, making some steaks. They looked pretty damn good.

"I didn't cook." Simon walked over to Clary and Jace with a grin on his face. "Izzy didn't, either, Jace."

"Oh, thank god," Jace said, and someone smacked him on the head.

"My cooking," Isabelle said, "is amazing."

Jace snorted, and then tried to hide it with a cough. "Yeah, sure, Isabelle."

"Whatever." She flipped him off.

"What is going on here?" Clary's mother stood in the doorway, watching them as if they'd grown four heads.

"Um, we're just cooking. And laughing at Isabelle's cooking skills," Clary said, giggling.

"Or lack thereof," Jace said with a smirk.

Jocelyn inspected them for a few seconds and then sighed. "Very well, but keep it down."

"Yes, Jocelyn," Clary said, rolling her eyes. Jocelyn glared at her, but she had her back to the rest of them. She was looking for something—something that obviously did not exist, not that Jocelyn needed to know that—in the pantry, while her mother sighed and walked away, as if her life was too tiring and she didn't need to deal with Clary.

She stayed in that position; face burning from the embarrassment she was just subjected to. She couldn't believe her mother, of all people, came to her and chastised her for being loud. Jocelyn was, after all, the one that got drunk all the time.

She felt strong arms around her, and the next thing she knew, she was kissing Jace, leaning into him once they couldn't breathe. She didn't know what else to do, other than to ask, "Jace, would you stay over?"

"I'd love to." He kissed the top of her nose and took her hand. They walked to the kitchen's mini-table, in which they ate steak and mashed potatoes with Izzy and Simon.

"You guys okay?" Isabelle asked, eyeing Clary and Jace up and down, as if that would get her some answers. Clary rolled her eyes and threw a balled-up napkin at her friend.

"We're fine, thank you." She poked at her food with no interest whatsoever. She wasn't hungry, especially after her mother caused that scene. Jace's gaze told her that it wasn't something to worry about, but she didn't care.

"Come on." Jace stood up, grabbed Clary's hand, and tugged until she stood up and started following him. "We're going to the bedroom."

"Don't get too sexy in there. Old people live here," Simon said, scrunching his nose in disgust at the thought of old people seeing whatever Jace and Clary did.

Clary stuck her tongue out at him. "Whatever, Si. See you guys tomorrow." With Jace's arm wrapped around her, she ascended the stairs. Once she was in her room, she didn't even bother changing. She fell into the bed, forgetting the fact that Jace was even there.

"Want me to help you get dressed?" Jace said, his eyes full of laughter.

"Sure," Clary said, and the laughter in his eyes was replaced by sudden desire. _Control yourself, _he said to himself, and then went through her closet until he found a decent outfit: a Rolling Stones t-shirt and some shorts he found. He tugged at her shirt until it was off, revealing her white bra. She blushed, suddenly self-conscious, but Jace tried his best not to stare. He yanked the shirt over her head, trying to be gentle but failing, and she giggled.

"You sound high," he commented, and said nothing else as he worked on her bottoms. Once she had her pajamas on, he tucked her inside the bed. Jace saw a pair of pajamas there for him, as well. On top of them, there was a note.

_Just in case he stays over again. –S_

The note was obviously from Simon, and Jace made a mental note to be a bit nicer to him the next day. Then he shook his head. _Not gonna happen, _he said with a content sigh. Then, he lay in bed by Clary's side. He watched her sleep, her breathing slow down, watched as she tossed and turned a bit. And when she wrapped her arms around his waist, he kissed the top of her head and didn't complain. Maybe he wasn't getting any, but he got more from nights like these than he'd ever gotten from anything.

"Jace," Clary murmured in her sleep. "Stay with me."

And if he doubted the fact that he'd stay before, it was all clear to him now. He couldn't leave the girl with the red hair, the rebellious nose ring, and the badass boots in the middle of the summer. He couldn't leave the girl that made him smile, and he couldn't leave the girl that did shit about what she didn't like.

He couldn't leave this girl, who had so recently become his world.

* * *

><p><strong>Jace is so adorable! :D<strong>

**Okay, so guys, I just wanna know...do you want me to leave song recs? 'Cause, I dunno...yeah, I'm babbling. My brain is not working properly. You see, I hung out with a hot guy yesterday, and that just makes my brain go to sleep for 24 hours. *sigh***

**Review:) **


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi guys! This A/N won't be too enthusiastic, considering my heart has been torn completely apart by a man called John Green. Said man wrote "The Fault In Our Stars," which I **_**just **_**finished reading, and I cried like five times. And by "cried," I mean I bawled my freaking eyes out like you have no idea. I just put it back on my bookshelf and took out a happy book for school tomorrow, for I am determined to not let TFIOS ruin my school day…or should I allow it to? It is, after all, the amazing John Green. He wrote "Looking for Alaska" and "Paper Towns," which are two of my favorite books. *sigh* Oh well. Read stuff by him. You will NOT regret it.**

**Thanks to maxwaylandgrey for beta'ing, to Sportyno1 for being freaking amazing and the sweetheart she always is, and thanks to everyone who's reviewed/put this on their alerts/favorites. I love you guys, really.**

**And I may or may not be working on a new fanfic, but I'm gonna wait 'till one of the ones I'm working on (RM or The Bitch) is done. I like to have two at a time. xD**

****I don't own shit. Only the plot of this story. ****

_**REVIEW!**_

* * *

><p>When Clary woke up the next summer, it wasn't pleasant. Jace was no longer in bed with her, and he'd left no note. She sighed, leaning back in bed, thinking of the day before. She'd told herself not to go through that again. Guys were all the same, and they weren't going to change for her. Sebastian was proof of that.<p>

Then she heard him.

"Maryse," Jace said, his voice not too far away. He must've been in the room. "What is going on?"

Clary held her breath and waited for him to say something.

"Are you serious?" he asked, sounding a bit more worried. Clary didn't move an inch. "Yeah, okay. I'll ask. Don't worry, it'll be fine." There was a pause, and then she heard him say, "I'll call you later, okay? Bye." She heard footsteps approaching, and she didn't hide the fact that she'd been listening.

"What happened?" she asked him, not bothering to hide her worry, either.

Jace sighed and sat on the edge of her bed. "Can I stay here for the rest of the week? Maryse is just . . . She's worried," he said, obviously picking his words as wisely as he could.

"Sure, yeah. But," she said, sitting up, "I want to know what's going on."

"Clary—"

"I mean it, Jace," she threatened.

"Fine." He sighed and sat on the bed with her. "Someone is claiming to be my biological grandmother and demanding to take me to live with her," he explained, taking a deep, shaky breath.

"No way," Clary said, shaking her head. "She can't do that."

"We're trying to figure it out," he said. "It's just complicated."

"I know, but Jace, it's been seventeen years. She can't claim you now, right?"

"I don't know, Clary. I guess—I guess we'll see." He pulled her to him and she wrapped her arms around his stomach. "It'll be fine," he told her. "I won't let them take me away."

"I won't let them take you away." She raised her head and kissed his jaw.

"Good," he said. "Hey, are you hungry?"

"Starving," she said, rolling off the bed and untangling herself from him. "I'm pretty sure Jocelyn and Luke are still in bed and they won't mind if you stay."

They descended the stairs, Clary leading the way into their kitchen. When they stepped inside, they were greeted by a very surprised Luke, and a very pissed off Jocelyn.

"Clary," Jocelyn said slowly, "do you mind explaining why there's a boy that is _not_Simon in this house?"

"Simon and I," Jace replied, "had a sleepover."

"How is he not awake and you two are?" Luke raised his eyebrow.

"I was hungry, so I knocked on Clary's door and asked her to lead me to the kitchen."

"You know where it is," Luke remarked.

"It's a big house," Jace said.

"You've got a point," he replied.

"Fine," Jocelyn said to that. "Well, we're headed out. Have a nice day." She said it as crisply as she said all the time, and then she exited the kitchen.

"A sleepover with Simon?" Clary said to Jace after waiting a whole minute. "Are you insane?"

"Maybe," he replied, grinning. "But what would you have preferred."

She sighed. "Fine. Let's just eat."

They raided the kitchen until they found what they wanted to eat: they were going to make blueberry muffins, and while they waited, they'd have Nutella pancakes.

"I love this," Clary said, taking a bite of her pancake and taking out the flour.

"I love muffins." Jace took some eggs from the fridge and set them on the table, and they got started on mixing and putting the materials together.

"Something isn't right," Clary said out of the blue.

"We've done everything right," Jace argued.

"No." She shook her head.

"Well," Jace said, puzzled. "What'd we do wrong?"

Clary grinned, and reached into the flour bag. "This," she said, and threw some all over Jace's face. His expression was one of shock and amusement, as he ran for the bag and, before Clary could snatch it back, he grabbed it with triumph. She ran after him, and he held it up, high enough so she couldn't jump and reach it.

"Ah, ah, ah." He shook his head. "No flour for you, Ms. Fray."

She edged closer to him, wrapping her arms around her waist and saying, "Please," with a pout.

"Nope," he said. "Nice try, though."

She grinned devilishly and, without a warning, started to tickle him. The flour dropped to the floor, a bit of it spreading over it, and she tickled him one last time before retrieving it from the floor.

"You clean it up." Clary reached into the bag and threw some more flour on his face before putting it away and placing the muffins on the oven.

After everything was cleaned up and all they had to do was wait, they sat on the floor, Clary on Jace's lap, his arms around her waist.

"We should do this more often," he whispered in her ear, nibbling on it. She giggled.

"We should." She twisted her neck and gave him a kiss on the lips.

"Mmm, we should stand up, too."

"I'd rather not," she said.

"Yeah, me either. So, Ms. Fray, aside from the flour fight, what else did you have planned for today?"

She grinned. "Nothing else. I'd rather go with the flow," she explained, trying hard to sound as serious as possible.

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows teasingly.

"Well, you see," Clary said, in her best teacher voce, "it is all about what life wants you to be doing. Therefore, it's better to go with the flow. You don't know what to expect, so there'll be no disappointments." She shrugged.

"So your plan in life is to make no plans?" Jace couldn't believe there was someone who thought that way, mostly because he thought there wouldn't be someone amazing enough to do so.

"Yeah." She smiled as she said it. "I guess it is. Oh, but don't call it a plan. That'd defy the whole purpose."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Ms. Fray."

When the muffins were ready and cooled down, the two of them ate in silence, except for the occasional, "Holy shit, this is good," from Jace, and the occasional moan and agreement from Clary.

"Wait!" Clary stood up suddenly, stopping mid-bite. "I have an idea." She ran to the pantry and retrieved some Nutella. She ran back to the table and, with a butter knife, spread some all over her blueberry muffin. Then she took a bite. "Oh my god," she said, even though her mouth was full and it wasn't proper. _Fuck that, _she thought. It was the best thing she'd ever tasted.

"I'll try it," he said, and then he mirrored her earlier steps. He took a bite and had a similar reaction to Clary's. Simon walked in then.

"Oh god," he said, covering his eyes. "Are you two, like, naked?"

Clary giggled and walked up to Simon, leading him into the table. He sat down in front of Jace. "Try this," she told him.

"Oh my god, this is heaven." Simon took more and more bites of his muffin, surprised at how much he liked it. "You guys cooked this?" He seemed incredulous.

She punched his arm playfully and said, "Yes, Simon. We did."

"Isn't my cooking fantastic?" said Jace, taking a bite from his muffin.

"Totally." Simon rolled his eyes.

Clary cleaned up the rest of the kitchen and put the leftover muffins away. They'd have plenty of time to eat them later. She took Jace's hand and he stood up.

"Si," she began, "We're going out. Um, you can . . . go over to his house and visit Izzy and Max. We'll be back before seven."

"Seven?" Simon glanced at the clock. It read noon.

"Maybe nine," she said sheepishly.

"Where are you going?" he asked her, bewildered.

"I was thinking maybe the studio?"

"You can't," Simon said. "You know you can't."

"I went with Maia," she replied. "It's fine."

"Ha," he said, "let me know how that goes."

"Will do," she said, and then she walked away, Jace's hand in hers.

"Let's go change," Jace suggested, pointing out that going out in their pajamas wasn't going to help any.

She sighed. "Sorry."

He kissed the top of her head and pulled her to him. "It's fine, Clary."

They were downstairs ten minutes later, wearing their everyday clothes—Clary was wearing a gray hoodie with jean shorts and her black boots, while Jace was wearing jeans and a black hoodie with some converse.

"Si, we're leaving!" Clary called out.

"Have fun!" he said, but to Jace it sounded as if Simon was expecting something more.

He frowned. "What's his deal?" Jace asked her.

"Uh," Clary said. "It's nothing." She gave no further explanation.

They drove in silence, Clary telling him when to go in all the right moments, and Jace almost getting lost once or twice, but somehow always managing not to. They laughed and sometimes screamed at each other in the most romantic manner. Through Clary's mind crossed the following thought, and it was a thought that had crossed both of their minds before: she didn't want to be in love. She just thought that it would hurt her, in the long run. But then, a second later, she realized that it didn't matter, because she was going to fall in love with Jace, and she just knew it. And it sucked. Jace was just a guy who enjoyed sex more than he enjoyed anything else, and she didn't want to like him or love him. He was complicated and irrational and he expected nothing of her, which was why he was so perfect for her.

"We're here," Jace said, and then added, "I think."

"This is it." Clary braced herself for a bunch of questions from Sebastian's part, and probably lots of evening fights. "I, um . . . okay, let's go." She unbuckled her seatbelt and exited the car, and as soon as she did, she saw Sebastian's figure walking over to where she was. _Shit, _she thought. Couldn't he have given her a few minutes?

"Clary," Sebastian said, approaching her as if they were in the best of terms. "You didn't tell me you were coming back! Oh, and you brought a friend." He sounded like a grandma from those cheap-ass movies, in her opinion.

"Shut up," she growled at him, holding Jace's hand on her own. His grip tightened.

"Aren't you gonna introduce me?" Sebastian asked her. "Or do I have to introduce myself?"

Clary glared, but looked up at Jace and sighed. "Jace, this is Sebastian. Sebastian, this is Jace." The two boys shook hands stiffly.

"I meant," Sebastian said, "a proper introduction."

"That _was _a proper introduction." She played dumb, hoping he'd let her get off easily this time, but his expression told her that there was no way she would leave without being tortured a bit first.

"Not proper enough." Sebastian slung his arm over Jace's shoulder. "Did you know," he said, starting to lead him away from Clary, "that Sparky here and I used to date?"

"Sebastian!" Clary said, outraged. "Let go of him, you fucking idiot! I'm here to record, not to listen to you tell the story of how I dumped you."

"Right," Sebastian said. "Sure you did, darling."

"Just ask anyone in our school," she said. "Anyway, Jace and I are going to record, and I'll see you later. We'll talk then." _Or not, _she thought.

As Jace walked with her inside the building, he stopped in the room and asked, "What the fuck was that?"

"His dad owns the place." She shrugged, opening the door to reveal her favorite place to record. "It's the only place I can afford with my savings, and we used to date."

"What happened?" He sounded genuinely curious.

"He cheated on me, and I dumped him."

"Oh," Jace said, wishing he could say he was sorry, but he wasn't gonna say that bullshit to her face. They both knew he wasn't sorry at all.

"Well, then," Clary said, plastering a smile on her face. "Let's play some shit."

Two hours later, they lay on the floor of the recording studio, tired and full of adrenaline. They'd danced to upbeat songs and skipped the slow ones, which was a first for Clary. Now, they had Jace's iPod on shuffle, and a song started to play just then. Clary recognized it as one of her favorites.

"I love this one," she said.

"Yeah?" Jace asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Mhmm," she said, grinning. She stood up and cranked the volume up. "Come on."

"What?" he asked.

"Dance," she said.

He shook his head. "You're crazy." But he stood up and said, "Okay, replay it." "

_The moon was shinin' on the lake that night, __  
><em>_The Slayer t-shirt fit the scene just right, __  
><em>_Through smeared mascara, I looked into your eyes and saw a light. _

_You told me stories about your chickadees, __  
><em>_They didn't like BB guns or stupid archery, __  
><em>_You charmed the lifeguard, he let them use the pool all day for free._

_Then the conversation stopped and I looked down at my feet, __  
><em>_I was next to you and you were right there next to me. _

_Then I said, "Girl! If you're wondering if I want you to, I want you to,__  
><em>_So make the move. __  
><em>_Cause I ain't got all night."_

Clary threw her arms up and banged her head, and Jace danced close to her, just swaying to the rhythm. He slowed down and examined her. She looked up and caught him staring, then blushed and said, "What?"

"Oh, nothing," he said, shaking his head. He bit his bottom lip.

"_What?" _she asked, with more urgency this time.

"You know," he said, smiling. "You look adorable dancing."

"Don't make fun of me," she said, blushing even more.

"I'm not." He placed his arms on her waist. "Come on."

They danced to the rhythm, Jace spinning her around and Clary with her arms wrapped around his neck. They just jumped to the music, nothing major, but it made them laugh and smile, and for the first time, they were having fun. 

_The rest of the summer was the best we ever had, __  
><em>_We watched Titanic and it didn't make us sad. __  
><em>_I took you to Best Buy, __  
><em>_You took me home to meet your mom and dad, __  
><em>_Your mom cooked meatloaf even though I don't eat meat, __  
><em>_I dug you so much I took some for the team. __  
><em>_Your dad was silent, __  
><em>_ His eyes were fixed to what was on TV. _

_Then the conversation stopped and I looked down at the ring, __  
><em>_Your folks were next to you and you were right there next to me._

_Then I said, "Girl! If you're wondering if I want you to, I want you to, __  
><em>_I swear it's true. Without you, my heart is blue.__  
><em>_Oooh whoa __  
><em>_Girl! If you're wondering if I want you to, I want you to.__  
><em>_So make a move.__  
><em>_ Cause I ain't got all night."_

_So much pain may come our way, __  
><em>_There may come a day when we have nothing left to say. _

_When the conversation stops and we're facing our defeat.__  
><em>_I'll be next to you and you'll be right there next to me. _

_Then I'll say, 'Girl! If you're wondering if I want you to, I want you to, __  
><em>_I swear it's true. Without you my heart is blue.__  
><em>_Oooh whoa __  
><em>_Girl! If you're wondering if I want you to, I want you to.__  
><em>_So make a move.__  
><em>_ Cause I ain't got all night." _

Jace and Clary were breathless when they finished dancing the song, and Clary was the first one to throw herself on the floor. Jace threw himself on top of her, but just before he hit her body, he stopped falling. He was on top of her, and Clary thought of the many things he could do. But out of all of them, out of all the possibilities, all he did was brush her red curls aside and plant a kiss on her lips.

###

"Are you sure they're there?" The man was wearing black, something the younger boy had seen often. He couldn't have been that much older than him. He was completely covered, standing outside his door.

"Yes," he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'm positive."

"Since when?"

"I don't know, alright!" The younger boy finished smoking his cigarette and stepped on it, smashing it with his foot. "For a while," he said, his voice calmer.

"You need to keep an eye on them," the older one said, taking out his phone. "You said we could count on you."

They both heard a door slam inside. "Shit," the younger boy said, and hurried the other one to the side of the building. "Fuck," he cursed again. "Stay hidden."

"Shut up," the older boy snapped. The two of them watched as the couple—a girl with fiery red hair and a boy with golden locks—exited the studio, hand in hand. They stopped in the middle, as rain begun falling down.

"Jace!" the girl said, squealing as the guy took her hand and lifted her up.

"Oh, come on," Jace said, rolling his eyes. "You said you wanted something romantic." He pointed a finger accusingly at her, while all she did was pout.

"Yes, okay, yes." She shook her head as the rain fell down harder. "What's your idea, Jace? Get pneumonia and die together?"

"You crazy ginger," he said, shaking his head and pulling her close to him. "Get over here." He cupped her face with his hands and brought his lips down to her. And there it was, her first kiss in the rain.

"Oh, for God's sake," said the younger boy, shaking his head. "He expects us to watch these two?"

"Yes," the older one said.

"All they're gonna do is make out and, eventually, fuck." The younger one shook his head in disgust. "I'm out."

"No," the older one said roughly. "You promised."

"I was joking," the younger one said. "I know I have to keep it up."

"Good."

They watched the couple climb inside the car, unaware of the two boys. They watched as they drove away in that truck, probably freezing to death, but their job wasn't to care about their health state.

The young one hurried the older boy inside. "You have everything you need?"

"They'll come here more, right?" the older one asked.

"I sure as hell hope not," the other one muttered.

"Don't drive them away."

"I won't."

"Good, because I highly doubt you'll want to face the consequences."

With that, the older boy pulled up his hood and walked away, quickly disappearing from view.

###

"Simon." Isabelle scowled at him. "You need to help me cook."

"Why?" he asked, dragging himself out of the seat and to the kitchen.

"Because," she said, taking random ingredients out of the fridge, "Clary and Jace have been out all day, I'm starving, and he'll want dinner."

Simon snorted. "You're not his wife, Izzy."

"I'm his sister," she said, and then shuddered. "Never his wife."

He smiled and helped her put all of the things away. "We'll call for a pizza," he said.

She nodded, taking away her apron and hanging it on the wall. "It was gonna be a disaster anyway."

"I'll order. I know the address," he said, took the phone, and frantically searched for the phone number.

"Max!" Isabelle yelled. "Hey, where are you?"

"Here," Max said, rolling his eyes. "What is it?"

"Just wanted to make sure you hadn't gone off," she said, smiling at her little brother and ruffling his hair. "That's all. You can, uh, go back upstairs and keep reading comics. Clary shouldn't be long."

"But Izzy," Max whined, his bottom lip sticking out in a pout. "It's boring! I've read them all, and—"

"And it's okay," a voice came from the doorway. Clary. Shit, she was here early. "I'm here. Sorry about that," she said, but the little boy wasn't listening. He was hugging her tightly and she was squeezing back.

"Hey, Jace," Isabelle said. "Uh, we just ordered pizza."

"Cool," he replied. "We'll be upstairs with . . . Max, I guess." Jace sighed and shook his head. "That boy sure as hell knows how to ruin romantic, sexy moods." Isabelle smacked him upside the head.

"He," she said, "is wonderful."

"Oh, _now _you defend him." Jace narrowed his golden eyes at her. "Whenever he interrupts the business in your bedroom, it's all, 'Oh, that little wrench, he's gonna pay.' Sometimes," he said, the amusement in his eyes obvious to everyone, "it's even worse." Simon looked a little uncomfortable, not that Jace cared.

"Shut up." Isabelle was as near as she'd ever been to blushing. "Take him upstairs with you. Simon and I need to wait for the pizza."

"Among other things," Clary said, smiling at Simon's wide eyes. "Call us when it's here." With that, she took Jace and Max upstairs, into her room.

"They're insane," Isabelle said, shaking her head. She couldn't believe that Jace had told Simon and Clary like that! That only happened twice, and it was an accident! She couldn't let herself think about it, so she entered the living room.

"Yeah," Simon said. "But any idiot can see that they're in love."

"Weird," she said, staring at her shoe. "I never thought Jace, out of all people, would fall in love."

"I guess he would," he replied to her. "But Clary? She sworn off love two years ago."

"What happened?" Isabelle leaned in, curious. She knew Simon couldn't resist. Her shirt was see-through, and some of the buttons were undone at the top. She wore a mini-skirt and some high heels that were most definitely not appropriate for the weather, season and place, but she didn't give a shit.

"I—um, I'm not supposed to tell you." He cleared his throat and inched away slightly from her. She just rolled her eyes, stood up, and then sat back down—on his lap. She got the reaction she wanted from him, and she smiled, pleased.

"You should ask her yourself," Simon said. "I honestly can't tell you."

She stood back up, smoothing her skirt. "Fine," she said, her face burning slightly. How could she have done that?

"And," he said from behind her, "if that's the way you usually get information from boys, it's not the way I like to be asked."

"Oh?" She whirled around.

"Yeah." Simon nodded and stood up just as the bell rung. "I like girls who have a way with words and don't use their body to influence things." He walked away from her and went to get the pizza, leaving her standing in the middle of the living room, speechless, ready to cry or scream of humiliation. And not because of what he said, no, but because of what he made her realize.

"Izzy?" It was Clary, standing in front of her. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Izzy said, shaking her head. "I just—I think I'm gonna go home. I have a headache."

"Oh," Clary said. "Well, you can just stay here."

"Oh, no, that's okay. Mom would get worried, and I—I have to go." Isabelle hurried out of the house, never paying attention to anything. Her only objective was to get away. She didn't look back when she heard the guys yelling, including Simon. She didn't look back when she heard the door slam way louder than it should, or when dogs barked at her as she ran, and ran, and ran. Her legs hurt by the time she reached the rocks that marked the half-point to her house. She'd been running for twenty minutes and she wondered why she hadn't fallen down of exhaustion. _It's a good thing I work out, _Isabelle thought to herself, stopping by the rocks.

Her breaths came out shallow and quick, and she sat down, trying to slow them down. She smoothed down her skirt, and a knot formed in her throat, and suddenly she was crying her eyes out in the middle of nowhere at whatever time of the night it was, and all she could think about was how idiotic she must've seemed to Simon. _Why does he matter so much?_ she asked herself. _He's just a boy, like Jace and Alec and all of my other boyfriends and boys I know. _She stopped sobbing after a few minutes, and even though her chest ached and her muscles burned, she took off running once again.

###

"What crawled up her panties?" Jace asked all of a sudden, while Clary, Simon and he were eating pizza and Max was watching TV. "I mean, she just . . . took off."

"She seemed a bit off when I saw her standing there," Clary said, jerking her head to the spot where she'd found her, ready to cry or break down or something.

"Okay, look, I know what happened," Simon blurted out, and all eyes were on him. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. How could he explain to them what Izzy tried to do without making her sound like a slut, like a tramp? Simon knew, deep inside, that she wasn't like that. He knew she was a strong, independent woman who was just used to getting what she wanted in one way when it came to boys, and usually it didn't take much effort.

"Well?" Clary urged, gazing at him more intently. "What is it?"

"She, uh, wanted to know about Sebastian." Simon shifted his gaze away from his best friend and stared at his pizza as if it was the most fascinating thing on this planet. "I said no, and she, um . . . tried to seduce me, I guess."

"Oh God," Clary said.

"Tried to seduce you . . . how?" Jace asked, waiting patiently for an answer.

"She sat on my lap, and, uh, she had her shirt unbuttoned," he explained. "She was kind of willing to take it as far as she could." Simon shook his head.

"Oh dear lord," Clary said. "This couldn't have ended well."

"And it didn't," Jace said to her, their legs bumping underneath the table. "What happened, Lewis?"

"I told her that I wasn't gonna tell her, and that if she ever wanted to ask me something or convince me of something, that I didn't respond to that. I wasn't gonna give her an answer for . . . whatever the hell she was gonna do." Simon shook his head. "That's just messed up. I told her that she should ask Clary if she wanted the details so badly."

"So you didn't touch her?" Jace asked, confused. "Izzy pretty much tried to jump you and you didn't lay a finger on her?"

"Pretty much," he said to Jace. "I wouldn't."

"And she thought you were insulting her," Clary said, shaking her head. "This is fucked up." She stood up. "Guys, watch Max. I'm gonna go over to your house, Jace."

"I'll go with you."

"No," she said, shaking her head and giving him a kiss on the lips. "I need to do this on my own, okay? I'll call you once I'm on the way back."

"Okay." Jace gave her a longer kiss on the lips and watched her go.

###

Half an hour later, Clary arrived at Jace's house, out of breath and in pain. She knocked on the front door about three times before someone answered. Maryse Lightwood stood in front of her, her usual demeanor of power all gone.

"Hi," Clary said. "Is Isabelle here?"

"Yes," Maryse said, setting her drink in a nearby coffee table. "Come on in, I'll show you where her room is."

Clary followed Maryse into Jace's house, and it struck her all at once that she'd never been there. Jace had always been the one to come to her house, really. She never had time to marvel his house, the way it was different from hers but similar at the same time. It had the same "rich people live here" air, but it was more toned down, and everything was more pale and golden than sparkly and colorful. She suddenly hated her mother for not being able to decorate a house properly, like Jace's.

"Your house is amazing," she said to Maryse, who smiled and thanked her before knocking on Izzy's door.

"Isabelle," she said softly. "Clary's here to see you."

"Go away, Clary." Izzy's voice was muffled by, Clary assumed, her pillow.

"Isabelle!" Maryse's voice was sharper now, and she gave Clary an apologetic look before she knocked louder on her daughter's door. "Come on, Isabelle. Clary's here and she needs to speak with you."

Isabelle groaned from inside, but Clary felt her footsteps hit the ground and then, in a matter of seconds, she was facing Isabelle. She looked better, composed, and only Clary knew that before she reached the door she'd somehow thrown a bit of powder on and made herself look decent.

"I was sleeping," was the only thing she told her mother. She dragged Clary by the arm and closed the door.

"Fuck, Izzy, that hurt." Clary rubbed the spot where her friend had grabbed her by. "Look, I just wanted to talk to you about Simon."

"What about him?" It was obvious Isabelle was trying to play dumb, which was stupid, considering that the two had grown closer over the course of the summer.

"Izzy, don't be stupid. Look at me," Clary said, and then Isabelle looked at her and she could see the sadness in her friend's eyes.

"What'd he tell you?" Isabelle said, her voice hollow, as if expecting the worse.

Clary smiled. "He said you tried to get him to tell you about Sebastian." Isabelle groaned. "It's fine," Clary assured her. "And then he told me what you tried to do—in gentle words, I promise—and then he said that he told you something and you must've thought of it the wrong way. He never meant to send you running, Izzy."

"But he did," Isabelle said. "Whether he meant to or not, his words—shit." She wiped a tear away from her eye. "His words fucking hurt, Clary!"

"He didn't mean them like that."

"Which side are you on?" Isabelle's hands were on her hips.

"No one's!" Clary was outraged. "I'm not here to take sides. I'm here to tell you that the boy likes you, Izzy, and he wanted you to know that he'd answer your questions and think you're trustworthy without you having to come on to him like you did!"

Isabelle glanced up at Clary. "Really?" she asked, voice small.

"Yeah," said Clary, nodding. "He's—shit, Izzy, he's crazy about you!"

"Oh god," Isabelle said, burying her face in her hands. "And I just fucked it up, didn't I?"

"Nah," she said, shaking her head and smiling. "If there's one thing to know about Simon, it's that he rarely gives up on the people he cares about."

"He cares about me." Isabelle said it like it was a lot to take in.

"We all do, Izzy."

"It's just—I've never really had a boy like me before," Isabelle said. "They usually just like my body." Her voice was bitter.

"Well, he thinks you're hot," Clary said, "don't get me wrong. But he sees more to you than that."

"It's scary," Isabelle said, shaking her head. "It's just . . . God, I saw how fast Jace fell for you. And my older brother, Alec, he gave everything to his boyfriend, and I just can't seem to do the same. I can't seem to give my heart out because I'm scared of getting it back all broken and gone and not the way it was before. Is that stupid?"

"No," Clary said. "No, it's not."

Because Clary was scared of the same thing, and she knew hearts were breakable, and giving it away was the silliest thing anyone could ever do. And, with that in mind, she gave hers away anyway.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi guys! I know, it's been…two weeks! Almost three. I am so, so sorry. But many things happened. Like, MANY. For one, maxwaylandgrey had no internet, so she couldn't beta. And secondly, I had surgery last Tuesday. -.- Anyway, that turned out to be GOOD, because I got a week off from school, and I have discovered many things, such as the terrible, terrible fanfic that is My Immortal by Tara something. I'm making a commentary version. It is just terrible.**

**Thanks to the following ladies: maxwaylandgrey, for…nothing since you said my boyfriend looks like your brother and I can't get that out of my head now—ewww, to SportyNo1 for being lovely, and…yeah, that's about it. Thanks to everyone who reviews and adds this to their alerts/favorites. Love you guys. *insert heart***

***I do not own TMI***

* * *

><p>Jace woke up in Clary's bed once again. He rolled over and, with amusement, found that she was still sleeping. He lay in bed, considering waking her up, but then convincing himself not to. Last night had been a rough night for her. She chased after Izzy, who left the house in a flash. Why had she done that, really? What Simon said made sense, but not too much sense. Isabelle was the kind of girl who didn't let anything get to her, not even the things that would bring down most people. It was a trait that Jace admired about her, though he would never tell her that to her face. He wanted to talk to her, but it was unlike him, and he didn't know how Isabelle would react. He decided to leave it how it was. Clary had talked to her, and his sister probably felt better now.<p>

Clary stirred beside him, and suddenly he snapped out of his reverie and waited for her to turn around. She did so within the minute, and her mouth opened in surprise when she saw that Jace was already awake. She looked adorable, with her red hair sticking to her face and a bit of drool on her cheek. Her eyes looked puffy, and with good excuse. They'd been sleeping for about twelve hours, since the previous day had been exhausting.

"Hey," he told her, a lazy smirk on his face.

"Not funny," she said, burying her head into his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her. "Oh, you're right."

"I am."

"It was borderline hilarious," he said, finish off his thought. Clary smacked his chest and he pulled her on top of him. Suddenly, his thoughts were filled with Clary. It was always like this, but this time it was different. He knew what he wanted, and he knew that it wasn't like this with every girl. When he wanted sex, he got it and then left them. But he wanted it with Clary, and then he wanted to take her out on a date and just stay with her.

_Fuck, _he thought to himself.

"Jace?" she asked, peering up at him from his chest. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm fine."

She pushed herself higher and then brought her lips to his. His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to him, closing the inch of distance there was between them before. The kiss grew deeper, and her hands were on his bare skin. His hands went under her shirt then, exploring the bare skin of her stomach and her back, until they found her bra, and just when he was about to unclasp it, she stopped the kiss abruptly.

"What is it?" Jace asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

"We're still friends, right?"

It hurt him to hear her say that. Friends? They'd gone out on dates, treated each other as if they had been together for months . . . and she wanted to be friends? Jace didn't know what to say, so he only nodded in response. He was scared that, if he said anything, she'd register hurt in his voice. He hated feeling that way. She was supposed to be another girl he could fuck and have fun with for the summer, right? He only dumped Kaelie because Clary was better—better looking, with a better personality, and better traits overall. He didn't want to feel this way about her, not really. At the beginning, it was okay. But then it got complicated, and it got to him, and he just wanted to go back to when everything was simple and he could do her without having to feel anything.

"Good," she said, doing nothing else for awhile. Then, biting her lip, she said, "You _do _want to be friends, right?"

"Clary," he said, exasperated. "I want to be whatever you want to be."

"Jace . . ."

"What?"

"Can we just—can we be friends? For now?" she asked him, and he kept telling himself how stupid he was for believing, for once, that Clary would want to be anymore.

He raised his eyebrow, pushing all thoughts aside, and said, "Friends with benefits, Ms. Fray?"

She giggled. "I'd like that."

_I wouldn't_, he wanted to say, but instead he just kissed her, hard and rough, knowing that it was the last time they'd speak about it. He had to accept that he wasn't going anywhere he wanted to go. He may have gotten his hopes up, but then they were brought down. And now he had to treat her like he treated every other girl.

"Wanna take a shower?" she asked him.

"I'd love to," he said, trying not to include too much sarcasm in his words, "but I have to go. Maryse will freak if she realizes that I, once again, have spent the night out."

"I thought she gave you permission to stay here?"

"She did, but still," he said, and that was the only explanation he gave her as he stood up and walked out the door. He stormed out of the house, rage bubbling up inside him, coursing through his veins. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't blame it on Clary, really. She'd been everything he needed, but was it worth it? Was it worth getting his hopes up to then have reality slap him?

Jace was in front of his house sooner than he'd hoped, and he burst inside, not bothering to close the door. He made his way up the stairs and into his room.

"What's with him?" Alec murmured to Isabelle in the kitchen.

"I have a pretty damn good idea," she replied with a sigh. "I have to go." She grabbed her keys from the table and hopped off a stool. "I'll be back in an hour."

"Izzy, where are you—"

"Clary's house. Can't explain," she said, and she was out the door before her brother could question her any further.

Jace locked himself in his room after hearing that exchange. He didn't want to know what Izzy was telling Clary, or what her reaction would be. He just wanted to stay there, in his room, and have no one find him or worry or care.

Just like it had been all of his life.

###

There was a knock on her bedroom door. Clary turned off her TV and stood up wearily. It couldn't be Jace, since he left in a rush. She frowned at the memory. Why did he? He always liked to stay and shower, make out, eat breakfast, go out, and then go home. What had happened? Did Maryse call him and tell him there was an emergency?

"Clary," a familiar voice called from the other side. "It's Isabelle."

She opened the door and, sure enough, Isabelle stood there, wearing red shorts and a black shirt with some high heels.

"Hey, Izzy." Clary smiled, but her friend didn't smile back. Instead, she shut the door and walked over to Clary's bed, sitting on the edge. Clary locked the door to her room and sat down next to her friend. "What's wrong?" she said, her smile dying out as she saw Izzy's expression. It was serious, like something bad happened.

"It's Jace," Isabelle said. _They took him, _Clary thought at first. _They took Jace. After he left. And he didn't say anything, and he didn't call, but why? What happened? What did I do? _

_Will I ever see him again? _

"No," Isabelle said, rolling her eyes. "They didn't take him."

"Did I say that out loud?"

"No, but your expression gave me the impression that you thought about it," she replied to Clary, shaking her head. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" Clary asked dreadfully.

"What did you say to him this morning, before he left?" Isabelle said, standing up. Her hands rested on her hips, and she paced around the room. She held the authority in the room, and Clary didn't dare ask why she was asking. She thought about it for a second before answering.

"I told him that I wanted to be friends after we, uh, made out." Clary blushed at the memory of his hands against her skin.

"And?"

"And then he said something about being friends with benefits," she said, a smile tugging on her lips. "And I said yes, because it was what I meant, and then he said he had to go because Maryse needed him home, which is why I assumed he was taken away today."

"He wasn't." Isabelle was shaking her head and staring at Clary as if she were an idiot. "Clary, the boy loves you. He doesn't _want _to be your friend. He wants to be your boyfriend."

"No he doesn't," Clary said, shaking her head. "This is _Jace _we're talking about. The day I met him, he fucked some girl in a passage inside your house."

"He did?" Isabelle's eyes widened and she let out a disgusted laugh. "Well, that was Jace."

"Was?"

"Then _you_ came around, and he changed," Isabelle said, matter-of-factly. "He wants to be with you, Clary, and not just as friends."

"I got that the first time you said it." Clary shook her head and fell down on her bed. "Why didn't he tell me? He said he _wanted _to be friends."

"Because he'd rather be friends with you than lose you altogether, genius." She rolled her eyes at Clary.

Clary didn't know what to think. She thought that being friends was what Jace wanted, which is why she proposed it—well, that, and the fact that she was scared to admit that she wanted to be more than friends. She wanted to be with him like she hadn't wanted to be with anyone before, not even Sebastian. How would she win Jace back? What would she tell him? Would he believe her?

All she wanted it to have something that wasn't complicated or that involved no feelings, but she realized that, in the long run, that wasn't possible. She was always going to be attached to the people she got close to. Jace wasn't supposed to be one of them. From the day she met him, she knew he was trouble, and not the kind of trouble she wanted to mess with. She wanted to stay away from him, and she tried, really, but in the end, she fell for him fast and hard.

"Take me to your house. I need to talk to him," Clary said.

"Not in that outfit," Izzy said, and with a groan, Clary realized that she was still in her pajamas.

"Hold on," she said, and then went inside her closet. Two minutes later, she emerged wearing her typical outfit: black shorts, a black t-shirt, and some combat boots.

"Let's go," Isabelle said, and together they left the house, and begun walking to the Lightwood's residence. They walked mostly in silence, each of the girls lost in their own thoughts. Clary was thinking of what she'd say to Jace. She was embarrassed, and she wanted to yell out to the world something, even though she had no idea what that would be. She wanted to get in a motorcycle and drive away, all the way back to New York, where she'd grown up. But she couldn't. She promised her mother that she'd stay here for the summer—as if she had a choice—and she had to keep that promise. She didn't want to be stuck with her any longer than necessary.

"You know, Clary," said Isabelle, breaking the silence, "I just thought of asking why."

"Why what?" she asked.

"Why'd you tell him that?"

"I thought it was what he wanted," Clary said, shrugging. "I wasn't gonna ruin this by telling him something he didn't wanna hear."

"I say that's bullshit."

"What?" Clary's eyes widened slightly at her friend's sudden outburst.

"Look, Clary, with all due respect, we both know that Sebastian fucked you up. I don't know what happened, but I know it must've been some fucked up shit for you to not want Jace, despite all the effort he's putting into this."

"No, look—"

Isabelle interrupted her by putting a finger up and shutting her up. "I'm not done yet. Whatever Sebastian did to you, you don't wanna see it happen again. Clary, I get that. We all do. But don't shut Jace out because you're scared of your heart being broken into a million pieces, because that's just stupid."

"Shut up," Clary said, growing angry at Isabelle's accusations. What did she know about what'd happened with Sebastian? About what she felt? She knew nothing. "You don't know shit, so don't try and pretend you do. I'm trying, Isabelle!" She threw her hands up in the air, tears welling up in her eyes. "I really am. But it's hard. What about you and Simon? You basically tried to fuck him to get some truth out of him. Guess what's fucked up now?"

Isabelle slapped Clary across the face, leaving her shocked. "Un-fucking-believable, Clary! You're supposed to be my friend!"

"You too," she said, letting the tears fall. She wiped them away abruptly. "You don't know what happened, Izzy, because I don't want you to know yet. Because you're gonna tell me how stupid I am for letting that happen. That's why."

"I wouldn't—"

"Yes you would!"

"No, Clary, I would not. Because I care," Isabelle said, looking hurt.

"Whatever," Clary snapped. "Just take me to Jace."

"I told him you were worth it," she said, her voice smaller than before. "I know you're worth it, but right now, I just want you to get the hell away, Clary."

"You want me to tell you, Isabelle."

"Yeah, I do!" she snapped angrily at Clary. "You're my friend, Clary. Friends tell each other stuff."

"I don't hear you sharing your past boyfriends," Clary retorted.

"You haven't asked!"

"Well, now I am."

"I won't tell you anything until you tell me something."

Clary groaned, throwing her black, large messenger bag on a rock and sitting down on it. The sun burned her face, and a few people stared as she rested her head between her knees. Finally, about a minute later, she raised her head. Her neck and back ached, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Fine," she told Isabelle, taking deep breaths. "After we go get Jace, I'll tell you everything."

"I'm sorry," Izzy blurted out, sitting next to Clary. "I overreacted. It's just—it's been a bad twenty-four hours." She let out a slightly hysterical laugh.

"I know," Clary said, standing up. "Let's go, then."

Isabelle laughed. "Okay. But it's a thirty-minute walk, and we need some music."

_It's impossible to stay mad at this girl, _Clary thought, as Isabelle looked for songs on her phone to play.

_My heart's a stereo,  
>It beats for you so listen close,<br>Hear my thoughts in every note.  
>Make me your radio,<br>And turn me up when you feel low,  
>This melody was meant for you,<br>To sing along to my stereo. _

Clary only sang that part, since it was the only part she knew. But Isabelle sang the whole rap part, and people stared at the two girls who were singing "Stereo Hearts" along the beach while trying not to laugh.

The fun, however, lasted very little. They reached Isabelle's house sooner than they thought, and Clary found herself going up the stairs and into Jace's room too fast. She didn't know what to say, how to act, or what to do.

She knocked on his door and got no response. She stood there awkwardly before deciding to knock again, and she still got no response. She knocked harder and more persistently.

"What?" Jace said from inside. "If it's Alec, for the last time, I do not have a condom I can give you, okay?"

"It's, um, not Alec," Clary said, her voice shy as she tried to suppress a laugh. She heard footsteps approaching the door, and then it swung open.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her, and she tried not to be hurt.

"I came to talk to you. Can I come in?" she asked.

He held the door open for her. Wordlessly, she stepped in and closed the door. She told herself it'd be fine. The worst thing that could happen was that Jace told her to get the fuck out. On second thought, she wanted to get the hell out of there. But Jace was staring at her expectantly, and she knew she was stuck.

"Um," she said, clearing her throat and stepping out of the door and pacing around. She looked down at her shoes, her worn-out, beat-up combat boots. She'd had them since she broke up with Sebastian. She told herself to change, and she did.

"Um?" Jace asked. "If that's what you came to say, then . . . nice?"

"I came to say that I don't wanna be friends," she blurted out, her face hot as she said it.

"Oh?" he said, looking at her, waiting for her to explain further.

"I want you to be my boyfriend, Jace," she said, and then she sat beside him on the bed. "I want to be your girlfriend."

"You want to be mine?" A smile formed on his lips.

"Yeah," she said, feeling a bit foolish. "Yeah, I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine."

"I'll most definitely be yours, Ms. Fray. But will you be mine?"

"Absolutely."

###

"Is that all they've been doing?" a deep voice asked by the phone. It'd been so long since the older boy talked to the boss, that he'd forgotten how intimidating he truly was.

"Yes, sir. Just . . . kissing and fighting and singing," the older boy said, feeling pretty idiotic. That was all he had to report, though. Truly. The boss asked for daily reports, and that was what they'd done.

"And Jace?" the boss asked.

"Sulking."

"That's all?"

"Well, he's probably fucking his girlfriend as of right now—"

"I don't need that kind of language from you," the boss said.

"Sorry, sir."

"You better be."

"That's all I have for today," the older boy said, and braced himself for some kind of punishment.

Instead, the boss said, "Keep me posted tomorrow," and the line went dead.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello guys! Yes, I am updating two at a time. Both chapters were ready, and since I update weekly, it's making up for the two weeks I missed. Also, I adore having a free week with all of my heart. All I've done is read, sleep, and write. And eat. Let's not forget food. Thanks to maxwaylandgrey for, um…stuff, to SportyNo1 for being so awesome and skyping with me last week, and to all of you guys who review. I love you. No, really, I love you. I just need to memorize your names so I can thank you. (I'm bad when it comes to memory.)**

**Enjoy! And leave a review ;)**

***I do not own TMI. And to you who didn't know, there are movie news. Shooting is scheduled for August 15, and they're looking for Simon. In fact, I'm pretty sure that before April ends, we'll have our Simon. They're hiring a casting director. Okay, so, back to my official statement: I do not own TMI. But if you guys need the link for the news, PM me or something and I'll send it* :)**

* * *

><p>Clary was sprawled on Jace's bed the next morning, wearing only one of his oversized t-shirts and one of Isabelle's small bras and panties. Clary knew she'd gotten the black lingerie on purpose, but all she did was sigh and shrug it off. The rest of her clothing was wet from the night before, which she spent in the shower with Jace, talking about the most random things. Water, it seemed, calmed them both down enough. It erased their worries and pain, at least enough so they were able to communicate properly and happily.<p>

The doorbell rung, snapping her out of her trance. She nudged Jace. "Should we go get it?"

"Someone else will," Jace said.

"Fat chance!" Isabelle yelled from the hallway. "And Alec spent the night at Magnus's house."

"Fuck," Jace muttered, and then he stood up. "Okay, babe, let's go."

Clary rolled her eyes at Jace, but she grinned and said, "You act as if we're going to fight for our lives instead of answer the door."

Too late, she realized what she said, and then a wave of fear crashed into her. What if they were going to take Jace away? What if whoever was there just wanted to yank him out of her tight grasp and take him away forever? She suddenly felt like she was going to break down, but then she composed herself. If someone was going to take Jace away, she was going to fight. She wasn't about to let anyone take away the only boy in her life she could trust aside from Simon. No way.

When they opened the door, there was a package. They glanced around to make sure there was no one, but after a few minutes of searching around the porch and street, the package was the only unusual thing around. Jace picked it up with a frown.

"It's addressed to me," he said, his frown growing deeper. Clary kissed the spot between his eyebrows and hurried him inside.

"What is it?" she asked. "You, obviously, were not expecting that."

"I wasn't. Could you maybe get me some soda?"

"Sure." She frowned and stood up, not wondering once why Jace wanted her out of the room. She thought it was for privacy purposes, although they never hid anything from one another. Clary found the soda soon enough, and once she had two cups with soda and ice, she walked back into the living room.

In the table, there were several pieces of paper spread out, and most of them looked like pictures. She frowned and walked over to Jace.

"Here," she said, handing him over the cup. He smiled up at her, though it didn't reach his eyes. She sat down next to him.

"What are these?" she asked, looking at the images.

"Pictures of me as a little boy," Jace said, his voice tight and guarded, and Clary knew he was going to either cry or scream.

"Who sent these?"

"Who do you think?"

"That lady," Clary said, her voice filled with hatred and disgust.

"She sent me a letter." His eyes flew immediately to the piece of paper that had been left untouched, one that had _Jace Wayland _written on it.

She looked at him tentatively. "Can I?"

"Yeah," he said, and she reached for the letter and tore it open.

"Blah blah blah, we want you to come live with us, blah blah blah—" She stopped abruptly, which made Jace propel forward.

"What is it?"

"Um," she said, but made no other sound. He snatched the letter away from her.

"There's nothing here that's unusual, except for that one thing where they'll take someone's daughter if I don't go, but . . . I don't know any Morgenstern chick. Do you?" When he lifted his eyes and stared at her, it was almost unbearable to nod.

"Jace?"

"Yes?" he asked, still unconcerned, still not understanding.

"My dad, he was involved in, uh, business with other people when he was younger. And that business was bad, and—"

"I don't get it," he said.

"—and it involved the Herondale family and the Lightwood family, among others." She looked at the letter. "She's Imogen Herondale."

"And?"

"Your father is a Herondale."

"Which makes you what?" Jace asked, exasperated.

"Valentine Morgenstern's daughter."

###

"You _told _him?" Simon asked Clary, disbelief all over his face.

After Clary had blurted out the truth to Jace, he'd declared he needed some space for the afternoon, and she said she would hang out with Simon. As expected, Isabelle was there, and she was hanging on to their every word.

"I didn't have a choice!" Clary replied, fuming. She was hoping Simon would help her, maybe give her some advice on the tragedy that was her love life, but he did nothing.

"You always have a choice."

"This time it was to lie, Si. I didn't want to lie to Jace," she said, her voice soft. "Not when he's going through this. I need to be there for him, and I just fucked that up by trying to help!"

"It's not your fault," Isabelle said, and Clary looked at the other girl questioningly. "Jace tends to be a bit overdramatic sometimes. And I understand that this is a huge situation, Clary, I do. But . . . they won't take you away. They're bluffing, and it's only a matter of time before Jace realizes it."

Clary nodded, trying to relax, but her body seemed unable to perform such a simple task. "Should I go talk to him?"

"Go," Isabelle said. "But, first of all, keep me on speed dial just in case. And secondly, just get on with it and fuck the guy."

Clary slapped Isabelle's arm playfully. "Will not," she said, her face almost as red as her hair. "I'll, um, see you guys later."

"See ya, Clary. And call if you need anything!" Isabelle said, slamming the door on her face.

"So nice," she muttered, and then set off.

The walk to Jace's house was, as usual, long. It was long and sand crept into her feet, sliding between her toes and making her uncomfortable. It was a bad day for wearing converse. She sighed. She couldn't take them off, because there were pieces of glass sprawled all over the place. She picked up the pace and broke into a run, her feet pounding against the sand, the heat of the summer slamming against her face. She was almost there, only a bit more, but she had to sit down.

She couldn't.

Jace would kill her.

So she went back to jogging to Jace's house, and when she felt she could pass out and every inch of her body, though mostly her lungs, were about to explode—that was when she reached his house. She knocked on his door as strongly and angrily as she could, and then the door flung open and Jace was standing there.

He hugged her tightly, ignoring the damp shirt full of sweat or the fact that she was panting as if she'd run a marathon. Which, technically, she had.

"Come on," he said. "Take your shirt off."

"What?" she asked, instinctively covering her chest with her arms.

"I've seen you like this before. But don't worry," Jace said, smirking, "I just wanna help."

"Fine." She gritted her teeth and took her shirt off, and the cold hit her suddenly. She began shivering a bit, but mostly she welcomed it.

"Go take a shower," he said, leading her inside Isabelle's room. "I'll give you something to wear. She has old underwear around here."

"Okay," Clary said, nodding as Jace gave her a kiss in the forehead and closed the door. She got a pair of old panties and a very old bra from Izzy. They were probably from her middle school days, which was embarrassing. They were still a black lacey matching set, which Clary would never own.

"Here you go," Jace said, handing her a huge shirt that would look like a dress on her.

"Thanks," she said, and waited for him to leave.

"Want me to help?" he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Jace!" she said, seemingly outraged. He chuckled and made his way out of the room. She undressed as quickly as she could and took her stuff inside the bathroom.

The water was like heaven, a perfect mix of hot and cold, and she took her time enjoying the shower. It was probably an hour later that she decided to exit the shower and join Jace, but she was too scared of what would happen. She spent the entire shower—one hour, apparently—thinking about everything except him, except this huge problem that she wasn't ready to face, but she somehow had to. Jace was a lot more to her than anyone else was. Clary didn't get attached to many people, really. Her friendship with Maia wasn't even a friendship anymore, and same with Jordan. She didn't want that to happen with Simon and Isabelle. And she definitely didn't want that to happen with Jace. She didn't want to forget him, and she didn't want to be forgotten by him.

"Jace . . . ?"

He was looking at the letter he'd received earlier, although Clary wished he'd be looking at something else instead. Anything.

"Clary," he said without looking up. It was the only acknowledgement he gave her. She should've been hurt—and she was—but she saw his reason to be mad. Dramatic. Sad. Worried. She wanted to know what he was feeling, really, and she came back to apologize. She'd never been proud of her family. There was nothing to be proud of, and Jace reminded her of that.

"Jace," she said, her voice cracking. She bit her lip and wished she could hide someplace, someplace she'd never be found in. She felt weak, and she hated the feeling. All she wanted was to have him back. She didn't want to face this whole thing alone. Her own dad was willing to hold her hostage to hurt people. What kind of a father was he, really? And how could Jace be mad at her for something that was out of her control?

He looked up at her then, looking just as bad as she felt. His hair was messy, as if he'd run his hands through it in every direction possible. His eyes were red, his mouth lacking its usual upward twist.

"Clary—"

"Look, I know that it's bad," she said, cutting him off. "It's really bad. But don't push me away." She was pleading with her voice, with her eyes, with her body. "There's a lot to lose. I don't know why you—we—are being dragged into this. But we have to figure out a way to do something, or else it'll end really badly."

"But he's your dad," Jace said, a confused expression in his face. "Shouldn't he care whether you die or not?"

"No," she said flatly.

"I mean, I get it, but he really wouldn't care if he killed you himself?"

"My dad," Clary said to him, sitting down on the edge of his bed, "would do anything for power. _Anything. _He tried to kill my brother, Jonathon, when he was a baby. He took Jon with him when he fled, and left my mother with me. I was only five."

"How do you remember?"

"Oh, I don't," she said, shaking her head. "But my mom talks with Luke about this, and she can get quite loud when she thinks I'm not listening."

"How do you trust that?"

"I don't. I've looked him up, seen my mother's old journals, heard the rumors—it can be a lie, true, but I doubt it. Why would my mom make this up?"

"I don't know," he mumbled.

"She wouldn't. She may be stupid and a drunken bitch, but she has a reason to be. I never really saw it, not until—recently," she said, struggling to find a word to when she pinpointed the reason her mother acted the way she did. And it was, after all, when she thought of losing Jace. When she thought of life without him, she just didn't think it'd be the same. "She loved him. I mean, she loves Luke, but Valentine was the first man she loved. And it must've been hard, seeing him turn out differently than she thought he would."

"Yeah," he said, but his voice was strained, as if he was still processing everything. "Look, Clary, I'm sorry. I fucked up. I know it may seem like I blamed you for being his daughter and for not telling me, but I've thought about it. I'm a fucking idiot. And I've been mustering up the courage to tell you this the whole day, from the moment you left, until now. And it's horrible. I know I must've insulted you, and in no ways will 'sorry' be enough, but it's all I have to give."

She waited to make sure he was done, and then she closed the distance between them. "Jace," she said, linking their fingers together. "You didn't fuck up. I get it, I do, and although it did offend me, I'm way over it."

"Clary, I don't wanna lose you. I don't want stupid things like these changing our relationship." He was looking at their hands, never at her, and she found it cute how he was embarrassed, for he was Jace Wayland, and he was never embarrassed of anything.

"Listen, Jace, I forgive you. We all make shitty choices from time to time."

"It doesn't excuse that I insulted you, Clary. It was wrong."

"Yeah," she agreed. "It was. But it's over, and you're forgiven." _And I love you, _she added silently.

He breathed out with relief. "Okay, can we just spend a few hours together, just the two of us, no worries at all?"

"Can we just talk about the whole thing?" she asked. "It's just—it's hard to let it go."

"I know. And we will," he added quite persistently, "but I need to spend a few hours with you, doing the things we usually do. Because I need you."

"I'm here," she said softly. "And okay. But then we go back to being serious."

"Deal."

###

The two men were outside the Lightwood residence, wondering whether or not the two teenagers were still fighting. It was bad, to have them separated. Having them separated meant that they meant less to each other, and so they didn't make very good threats and hostages. Which meant that their boss would be royally pissed off.

"Come on," the younger one muttered, looking up at Jace's bedroom window. "Please be happy—"

"Even if they're mad at each other, they're stupid enough to care." The older one glared at said window. "So it doesn't matter."

"_He _likes it when they're happy."

"_He _intends to kill them. Their happiness means shit at the end of the day," the older one reasoned.

The younger one snorted and nodded. "You're right. We should just go and say they've made up."

"With what proof?" said the older one.

The younger one nodded and patted the older one's back. "If you spent nearly as much time around people like them as I have, you'd know the answer to that, trust me."

"And that is?" the older one asked expectantly, while the younger one rolled his eyes.

"They're teenagers," he said simply. "There's no way either of them could keep their hands off each other for longer than an hour."

###

Clary didn't remember who started it or when it did, but she found it impossible to keep her hands off of Jace. Her lips had been on his for the longest time, only stopping when it was necessary to breathe.

"Clary," he said.

"Jace," she said.

"Are you sure?" he asked, and she knew what he was asking, and she knew why he was asking.

She nodded. "I'm positive."

Clary kissed him again, softly at first, and then when he didn't stop her she kissed him harder, with a rougher feel. She wanted to keep kissing him until her lips bruised and she couldn't move them any longer, until they were purple, until she couldn't kiss him anymore. Her arms were locked around his neck, and it occurred to her that they were in his house, truly alone for the whole weekend. Isabelle was sleeping over at Simon's, Max was staying with his grandma, and Alec was with Magnus. She thought of the things that could happen.

_I want them to. _

Shit.

He still had her pinned against the wall, his hands trailing down her shoulders, down her sides, down her legs . . . and then they went up, stopping at her hips. She locked her legs on either side of his hips, so that there was no space between them at all. He pressed kisses on her throat, stopping on her soft spot and nibbling on it roughly. She knew that she'd probably have a nasty bruise there, but she, honestly, didn't care. Her hands were tangled in his hair, and she pushed him closer. She heard him moan, and it was the sexiest sound he ever made the entire time they knew each other.

He finally decided to meet her lips again, but this time his hands began wandering under her shirt, exploring her stomach and going up until they found her breasts. He moved them to the back and unhooked the bra with no problem. She slipped off her shirt while Jace carried her to the bed. By the time she lay facing him, her upper body was completely exposed. She fought the urge to cover herself—it wasn't every day that she let Jace see her completely—but she reminded herself that it didn't matter. He squeezed her left breast gently, and she let out a moan, biting her lip and fighting the urge to scream. He squeezed her other breast, and then took the nipple between his teeth, biting down on it ever-so-gently. She bit her lip and her hips thrust upward in response to him sucking on her nipple. His lips trailed down, up until they reached her waist. Slowly, he pulled her pants off, kissing down every inch that was slowly uncovered. He kissed the spot between her legs, and she felt herself go weak. She wanted, with all of her life, to scream, but all she could do was let out a pathetic whimper due to the fact that she was biting her lip so hard she drew blood. He chuckled darkly as he met her lips once again. She felt the hardness of his cock against her thigh, and the thought made her smirk.

"You," she said, panting, "have too many clothes on."

"Take them off, then," Jace said, letting go of her and sitting on top of her, his legs on either side of her.

She grinned. "My pleasure." Off went the shirt, and then he was pinned down to the bed by Clary, who was surprisingly strong considering her height and weight. She kissed him hard, but with a passion that mirrored his own. Her hands trailed down his pecks, to his abs, which she adored. She broke off their kiss and, instead, planted several kisses on his stomach and one on each peck of his, causing him to grunt in pleasure. She smiled, pleased to know she wasn't the only one who reacted that way to the other.

She slipped off his pants as slowly as he'd slipped hers, but she didn't kiss every area in between his waist and his feet. Once his pants were off, her hands circled around his cock, and he got even harder. She moved her hands up and down his length, and he moaned in pleasure.

"So good," he choked out. "Don't stop."

"It's not that part yet," she said, though she knew she had to get him inside her or she'd die. That's what it felt like, anyway.

"God, Clary," he said, thrusting his hips upward at the pressure she applied. She fastened her pace and then he said, "Stop."

When she noticed his voice was dead serious, she stopped. She felt him shudder. "What is it?"

"I want," Jace said slowly, in a tone that was very dangerous, but so dark and sexy that she needed it, craved it, wanted it, "to be inside of you."

She lay down beside him, and he stood up. "Then go ahead."

He positioned himself so that his legs were on either side of her waist. He couldn't do it yet, because it'd lack everything, and that's what he wanted her to have—everything. He slipped two fingers inside her, moving them up and down, and she was so wet, he had to remind himself that she hadn't had sex since freshmen year. He didn't wanna think about that. He just fastened his pace as she moaned and screamed his name.

When he retrieved his fingers, she watched with hungry eyes as he licked his fingers. She let out a long moan and his lips crushed hers.

"I. Want. You." Her command was loud and clear, despite the fact that she felt like jelly.

"Your wish is my command," he said, a smirk on his face. Then he positioned himself again, and he was inside of her in a matter of seconds. Pleasure filled her, although it was a bit painful. It wasn't bad, but mostly it was because it was Jace, and she couldn't help but loving him. Her hips thrust upward and they settled on a steady-yet-fast pace, and she felt like every inch of her body was burning. All she could do was moan and thrust and scream his name, over and over again. He kissed her lips roughly, and their hands moved up and down their bodies. She came first. She tried to hold it back for as long as possible, but she couldn't handle the pressure anymore.

"It's okay," Jace soothed, and then he kept thrusting deeply inside of her. He came afterward, moaning with pleasure as it was over, but regretting that it didn't last nearly as long as they wished.

"I love you, Jace."

"And I love you, Clary."


	14. Chapter 14

**Well, this is embarrassing...hi, guys! *waves* I know it's been FOREVER, but I have my reasons. 1) I went away on break and I had no computer, 2) I had a lot to catch up on after my surgery, 3) In case you didn't know, I had surgery. I still love you guys! I haven't forgotten about you. Good news are: I'm okay, I'M GOING TO SEE ONE DIRECTION IN CONCERT, I'm going to go visit my friend PinkGoesWithEverything for four weeks in the summer, and life is pretty good. :D Thanks to maxwaylandgrey for beta'ing this. :) Thanks to all of you that have reviewed and alerted/favorited this, you guys are amazing! Be sure to leave a review! xxx**

* * *

><p>When Clary woke up the next morning, she was, for a minute, unaware of her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was the most shockingly obvious one: she was naked under the sheets. She began to panic, but then willed herself to calm down and figure out where she was. She started examining the room carefully. The room was all white, the drawers were wooden, and there was a body next to her―she felt the heat of it, warming her up even more than she needed, but for some reason, it didn't bother her.<p>

Then it hit her.

She'd done it. It. With Jace.

Good god.

She tiptoed out of the bed and into the bathroom. She didn't feel any different, because it wasn't her first time. She'd done it twice with Sebastian before their devastating breakup. Her flaming red hair was messy, her face was red, her eyes were shining, and she realized that she was naked in the bathroom with the door open. Her cheeks grew hot.

Suddenly, a figure joined her inside the bathroom. It was Jace, who was, as a matter of fact, also naked. He wrapped his around her bare waist, her skin tingling the moment they touched.

"Hi," Clary said, twisting her neck so she could plant a kiss on his lips.

"Hi." Jace nibbled on her neck, and she felt herself immediately wanting more, more of what they did last night, more of that for every night.

"Jace," she said, but it came out as a moan. She turned her body so they were facing each other. "Jace, stop." Clary giggled as he lifted her so that she was sitting on the sink and her bare legs were wrapped around his waist.

"Why?" he said, voice husky as he kissed her lips roughly.

"I have to go home," Clary said half-heartedly.

"Like hell you do." He carried her bridal style into the bed and placed himself on top of her. "We can do this the easy way, or we could do this the hard way."

"Jace." She sighed. "Fine, but . . . I have to be home in an hour."

He grinned. "I can deal with that."

###

"Isabelle," Simon said, trying to reason with her. "I am not going to a party."

She sighed. "It isn't a party, Si, and you know the place. You confirmed it."

"I only barely know it," he said, attempting to defend himself, but it was only halfhearted. Isabelle was the kind of girl that couldn't be fooled by a boy, much less Simon. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair as she placed a hand ever-so-gently on her hip. She cocked her head, waiting for him to give in.

"Come on, Simon. We all know you can't resist forever," she taunted, grinning.

He scowled at her. "I'll go if Clary and Jace come."

Izzy clapped her hands in delight. "Perfect! I'll ask Alec and Magnus, too."

"Great," Simon mumbled, but she didn't hear. She was busy making phone calls. He sighed and plopped down on the couch of Clary's house. They'd both spent the night in the house (in separate rooms, because they wanted to take things slow), covering for Jace and Clary. She'd called Izzy in the evening, begging her to stay over there, because she was spending the night with Jace.

"I want details!" Isabelle had said. She had Clary on speaker, and Simon grinned, knowing his best friend was probably rolling her eyes at Izzy's inquiring ways.

"Fine, fine. I have to go. Bye," Clary said, and then she hung up, leaving a very excited Izzy and a very disgusted Simon staring at the phone.

They'd watched movies all night long, his version of a date. She figured it was better to make him choose what they did that night, because, well, she had plans on her own for the next evening. The Pandemonium Club. It was originally a club in New York, but it had become a franchise sometime in the past two years, when she was away from her home city. So she decided it was time to "go back home," relatively speaking. She knew Simon would agree, but that he'd be as reluctant as ever. Simon was sure that this whole planning this had happened even before Clary had told them about her spending the night over at Jace's house. It didn't thrill him too much, but he had to live with it. Clary―she'd already lost her virginity. Simon knew that. Simon consoled her after they broke up, when she called him sobbing at two in the morning because she couldn't sleep and she couldn't do it and she couldn't fall in love again. But then Jace had come, two years later, and swept her off her feet. Her promises? Yeah, they went down the drain, along with her carefulness.

In a way, Simon was glad that the old Clary was back, one that wasn't afraid of living and exploring the world, but at the same time, he was hesitant. What if Jace broke her heart? What then? What would happen to her? Simon knew her enough to know that she wouldn't be able to go through it again.

"Clary and Jace agreed," Isabelle said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Magnus is totally into the idea, but Alec, careful as ever, is considering it." She rolled her eyes. Simon loved it when she was happy, but tried to act annoyed. He kissed her nose.

"I'm glad it's all turned out as you planned it," Simon said, not quite meaning it, but a smile lit up her face and he knew that what he said was enough.

"I know you don't mean it," Izzy said slowly, "so don't try to fool me. But thank you. Thanks for, like, not hating me." She laughed. Simon knew how much it took her to say that, so he pulled her close and let her rest her head against his chest, and he didn't want to be slow, he wanted to be fast, but he couldn't be, so he let her head rest against is chest and made no other move.

"Thanks, Izzy, for not hating me."

"Why would I hate you?" she asked incredulously, peering up at him.

He stroked her arm absently. "I was an asshole to you. I do know that. It was the truth, what I said, and I'll never regret it, but I could've been nicer about the whole damn thing."

"You're the sweetest guy I've ever known, Simon Lewis, and I could never hate you."

"Don't speak to soon," he joked.

She kissed him. "I'd never."

###

Clary examined her clothes in the mirror. They were what Izzy would approve of, she guessed, and she wanted to please her friend. Her only reason was that Isabelle would most likely make her change her outfit twenty freaking times if she didn't like it. So she made sure she was wearing something Izzy would love―except heels. Clary hated high heels. She wore a dangerously short skirt, a tank top, some fishnet tights underneath the extremely short skirt, and combat boots. She wore a little bit of makeup. Dark red lipstick, dark eye shadow, mascara, and eyeliner. Somehow, she managed not to look like a total crazy Goth girl. She managed to look good. Her outfit and makeup were highly praised by Izzy.

"You look better than I do," she said to Clary. "It's got to be the sex."

"Oh god," Clary said. "Here we go."

Isabelle ignored her. "How was it? I mean, he's my brother, so it's kind of weird, but still. Tell me! Did you like it? Was it rough? How many rounds?"

Clary shot her a death glare. "It was good, I liked it very much, a few rounds were rough, and about six rounds, four at night and two before I got home. Happy?"

Her friend's mouth hung open. "Um, okay, wow. I'm never asking you about your sex life."

"Thank you."

"So," Isabelle said. "Do you like my outfit?"

It was sexier than Clary's by far. Her skirt was impossibly short, she wore fishnet tights, a tight red V-neck shirt that showed off her boobs, and high heels. Hooker heels. Clary shook her head and let out a laugh.

"It's slutty," Clary said, bursting into laughter once again. "I like it."

Izzy scowled. "I should change the skirt."

"Keep it," she replied. "Look, if you're worried about Si, don't be. He's smitten by you, always has been. He likes you for who you are."

"Fine," Izzy grumbled. Then she sighed, flopped down on Clary's bed, and looked up at the ceiling. "I'm horny."

Clary's eyebrows rose. "Are you not getting any from Lewis?"

"Nope," she said. "It's not that I hate slow―I like slow―but it's just . . . I want fast, too. I want him." Her voice dripped with desire and want. Clary fought back a grin.

"It's good he hasn't tried to get in your pants. It shows he really does like you," Clary said, trying to soothe her friend. But good god, Isabelle was inconsolable. She looked ready to screw any guy.

"Yeah, yeah." Isabelle didn't deny Clary's words. She was annoyed with them, but Clary could tell she believed them.

"Hey, Izzy? Don't do anything stupid tonight. Simon can be . . . stupid," she said, after struggling to find the right adjective. Stupid seemed to describe everything. "But he's loyal, and he's a great guy. So don't fuck it up. Don't cheat, don't try to get in bed with him . . . stick to slow. Slow is good."

"Says the girl who has fucked her boyfriend six times in the past twenty four hours," Isabelle said, not unkindly.

Clary blushed. "Shut up."

"Never, my darling," replied Isabelle. "So, are we ready to go, or do you need to keep staring at yourself?"

"I need to look good. It's the second night in a row Jace and I will have sex. I'm going for ten rounds."

"Well, you're an optimist."

"I'm just stating facts."

Isabelle mock-glared at Clary, although she was very clearly trying to suppress a smile, and said,

"Well, at least one of us is getting some." She winked and exited the room.

###

"The Pandemonium club?" The younger one of the boys stood outside Clary's residence, examining his surroundings. When he was sure nobody was watching him, he straightened up from his crouched position. "Shit," he said to the phone. He was talking with the older boy, who did not accompany him this time around. He was left alone to find out where the group of friends was going.

Tonight was the night, the boss declared earlier this morning. He'd told them that his associate had called, and that said associate told him that time could not be wasted, for they could be doing what they wanted to do―if only the boss would hurry with his plans.

Which was why the younger boy stood outside the redhead's residence, where the six teens were, apparently planning to drive to The Pandemonium Club. He'd gone there, he remembered with a smug smile, two years ago. He'd gone several times. With a girl, of course, the girl who he now hated as much as she hated him. But, then again, most girls hated him as much as he hated them. He sighed and tensed as the front door opened up.

"Clary," a voice said, and the younger boy recognized it as Jace's. "You . . . wow. I mean, like . . . wow."

She giggled. The younger boy tried to ignore the sexiness in it. He had to focus. But, damn, that girl could turn anyone on.

"Jace," she said, her voice stern. "You're staying over."

"Clary―"

"No buts. My parents are in a conference in San Francisco. They won't be back until tomorrow night," she said.

Jace sighed. "When you put it that way . . ."

The next thing the younger boy knew, Jace had Clary pinned against a wall, his hands all over her body, squeezing her ass, exploring the bare skin under her shirt, kissing her roughly, kissing her neck, lips, eyes, nose. Clary moaned several time and wrapped her legs around his waist. One of her hands was on his hair, pulling him closer, and the other one was dangerously close to traveling under his pants. The younger boy looked away and sent a text message to the older boy.

_Clary's parents are out of town until tomorrow. Inform the boss. Now.  
><em>  
>The older boy, as oblivious as ever, called him. The younger boy hung up.<p>

_They're outside, you fucking idiot_, he texted to the older boy.

_What are they doing?_ the older boy replied.

_They look like they're about to fuck_, the younger boy replied with disgust. He heard panting and footsteps, which meant they must've broken apart. A quick glance from the side of the house confirmed his suspicions: they were now staring at each other hungrily, rather than eating each other up. Then they started to talk. Jace kissed Clary softly, and then they walked inside.

"What now?" the younger boy muttered.

A few minutes passed, and all he heard was the sound of crickets and bugs. He began to get annoyed. What was he supposed to do? Stand outside the fucking door all fucking night and wait until these kids stopped fucking? Goddamn it.

About twenty minutes later, the door opened again. There was laughter and chitchat, which meant only one thing.

He waited for his eyes to see it.

The six teens filed out of the house in pairs of two: Clary and Jace, Isabelle and Simon, Magnus and Alec.

The younger boy hid behind the house and dialed the older boy. "They're leaving," he said once the other boy picked up.

"Go to the club," the older boy instructed. "I'll meet you at the bar."

"I'm on my way." The younger boy hung up, walked to his car, climbed inside, and drove away.


	15. Chapter 15

**Heya, guys. ;D It's the wonderfully beautiful MaxWaylandGrey updating for camibandlover! Yes, yes! This is terribly late and I take the blame! I've had this for quite a while in my inbox but life is terrible and a bitch and such a hassle at times that I just didn't have time to beta. *sigh* Anyways, at least this is here! Now, why isn't the bitch here to post it? Because she's having this weekend sleepover with her friends. I know. LAAAAME. ;) Well, I don't have instructions on who to thank because I shouldn't even be posting this... ;D ANYWAYS! I guess I'll just thank myself! Yes! Cams wants to thank me for being the most amazing person that she's ever met! Ugh, yes. Camille is such a cliche at times. *shrugs* Can't blame her. I _am _pretty fucking amazing. xD Omg, I'm being a cocky bitch. Okay, go read! And don't forget to review! :D**

* * *

><p>Pandemonium, Clary thought, reminded her of home.<p>

It reminded her of the time her and Simon snuck in the first time, and they were so shy, lingering in corners, until he asked her to dance. She'd grinned shyly and obliged. They spent an hour dancing, losing themselves in the music, and by the end of the night she was dancing with some guy named Raphael and he was dancing with some chick named Chloe.

"That was amazing," Clary had said once they left. She felt breathless, but energy still coursed through her, and she felt as if she would never sleep again.

Simon grinned. "I know. I actually made out with Chloe."

"I'm glad I didn't make out with Raphael," she replied to that. "He was nice and all, but he looked like he wanted to fuck me then and there." Clary shuddered at the thought.

"I'd have killed him," Simon said, his voice dangerously low.

Clary tried to imagine Simon, skinny and dorky, beating up Raphael, who was tall and buff, and she ended up snorting. Her best friend looked offended.

"No offense, Si, but I don't see that happening."

He scoffed. "If he and I ever meet again, we'll see about that."

Now, as they entered the club, Clary felt a rush of excitement. It was like she was back to being her old self, innocent and feisty in the way every oblivious teenage girl was. She just wanted to fall in love back then, to have a guy hold her in his arms. And, tonight, the guy was Jace.

He held her hand as they slipped inside the crowd of people who were gathered in the middle of the club. It was full, for it had opened only one month ago. They went into the bar.

"What do you want?" Jace shouted over the music.

"A Coke!" Clary yelled back, and he nodded and ordered their drinks. He was drinking some kind of strong-smelling alcohol that Clary wouldn't even smell too much. She tried to make as much distance between her and the cup he was holding as possible. The smell of alcohol sickened her, ever since her mother once slapped her when she was drunk. Clary drunk, sure, but just for the feeling. The smell bothered her a lot.

"You okay?" Jace asked, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm great," she said.

He set his drink down. "Let's dance."

She took one last sip of her soda, held her arms out, and let her boyfriend lead the way to the dance floor.

###

"Look at those two," said Isabelle, taking a sip of her Sprite and staring at Clary and Jace. "They're so adorable." She sighed longingly.

Simon rolled his eyes. "They're disgusting. And, Izzy, if you want to dance, we can dance."

Her eyes lit up. But then she thought, _We can never move the way they're moving, because we're taking it slow._ She rolled her eyes. Fuck it. "Let's dance," she said to Simon, taking his hand and leading him to the dance floor.

On the way to the center, however, Simon stopped walking. "Si," Isabelle said, annoyed. "Come on, let's dance."

He was looking beyond her, however. She followed his gaze and only saw a guy with blond hair and dark eyes. He looked pretty damn handsome, in her opinion, but Simon was straight as hell, so why would he be checking out a guy? She sighed and tugged on his hand.

"Simon, what's wrong?" Now Isabelle was frowning as Simon's expression darkened considerably.

He swore under his breath. "Shit. Shit, Isabelle. I just―come on," he said, and he led her to a corner where they could watch a guy without being too close. That way, the guy couldn't see them. "He's Clary's brother. Jonathan Morgenstern." He said the guy's name bitterly. Why would Clary's brother be so bad?

"And?" Isabelle prompted, staring at Simon demandingly.

"He hasn't been seen since his dad walked out of Clary's life." Simon glanced over at where Clary and Jace danced passionately on the dance floor. "Why would he show up now?"

"You do realize I still don't get it, right?" Izzy said, hands on her hips. "Simon Lewis, you better explain what's going on."

He rolled his eyes. "You sound just like my mother."

"That's a weird thought, considering we'll end up making out tonight." She winked at him, knowing fully that she'd planted some very disgusting mental images in his brain.

Simon glared at her. "I hate you."

She smirked. "Come on, Si, tell me."

And he did. He told her all about how Clary's mother was sick of her father, and she threatened to run away. Valentine didn't walk out of their life. He left to a basketball thing with Jonathan for a weekend, oblivious to the fact that, when he got back to their mansion in New York, the girls would be gone. That they'd be in Canada, where they first lived (because Jocelyn wanted to get as far away from her husband as she could). He told her that she left her son behind, all because Jonathan preferred his father anyway, and she didn't want him to resent her more than necessary. So she took Clary and fled. She moved every few months, but left Clary in the same boarding school for a year, and then she was changed to Portland, New Jersey, Tennessee, Texas, California, New York (much to her mother's dismay), and, next year, her mother was taking her to England.

Only Clary didn't want to keep moving, Simon said. Clary wanted to stay in her house with her mother and to forget about Valentine. She said that the motherfucker didn't matter to her, but Jocelyn wouldn't listen. There was something else to the story, something Clary didn't know, which meant Simon was in the dark as well. Clary knew it had to be bad and that it dealt with the law. She'd been slowly piecing it together. Her mother never needed any money. Luke worked for the sole pleasure of it, but he'd retired right after Jocelyn decided to take him with her. She'd been having an affair (one Clary was aware of, which deepened her depression at the time) with Luke, which was why Clary could tolerate him less than she did when she was a child and he was just her father's friend.

Valentine, Jocelyn suspected, was always tracking his family down, and Jonathan was helping him. Was it a coincidence that they were in California and that Jon was in the club? Simon asked, and then answered: "No, it isn't, Isabelle. They're up to something. We have to find Clary."

Isabelle absorbed the information quickly. She took sharp intakes of breath as if it was just a scary story, but she knew better. It was scary, alright, but it was also real. And she had to help her friend before her dad did something to her that no one could take back. The man must've been full of revenge, Izzy figured.

"What do we do? I mean, he'll know!" Isabelle exclaimed. "If he's watching her, he'll know."

"Nah, he doesn't know me, or you, or Jace, or Alec, or Magnus, and we're not supposed to know him. She showed me a few pictures," Simon explained, before she could ask anything.

"Okay. Well, we have to warn her!" she hissed, and then Jonathan started to move―he was getting closer to Clary. "We have to do something, Simon! And if you're not ballsy enough to, then I will!"

"Jesus, Izzy, calm down." Simon stared at her until she snapped her mouth shut, swallowing her protests. "Listen, we have to form a plan."

"Shut up, you idiot! There's no time for a plan!" She was practically yelling. "Don't you care that your best friend is about to get into some deep shit? Because I do!"

"I do, too!" He was almost shouting along with her. He tried to swallow his anger. "God, Izzy, listen to me. You're gonna go make a distraction and bring me Clary. Go flirt with Jon." He shut his eyes as if the thought pained him, which it probably did. Isabelle felt proud that she could make him feel that way. "Flirt with him. Do what you need to do. I'll go warn them."

Isabelle knew that he wasn't trying to sell her off. He was doing what he had to do to protect Clary. She nodded, because she was willing to do whatever it took, too. "I'm gonna go, okay? Simon, please hurry. I mean, it's selfish to say so, but please, please hurry. I don't wanna spend an extra second with that bastard. I have a feeling he's just like his father, which isn't a pleasant thought." She looked a bit desperate, and she hated herself for it.

"I will do everything I can," said Simon, kissing her in the lips.

She transformed, right then, right there. She did something to her shirt so that it would show her stomach, and with her hands, ripped out a part of her tights. She winced. "My favorites," she said, and that was that. Then, she blew him an air-kiss, and walked towards Jonathon. She would never tell Simon this, but she felt confident, more like herself.

She just hoped he'd hurry the hell up and get Clary to a safe place. Isabelle knew there was something not right about this whole thing. No one would be scared of Valentine if he wasn't actually dangerous. She bet he could kill. She bet her life was in danger.

Friendships, she thought, made people do stupid things.

She reached Jonathan. He was really good looking, which would make the job easier. She put on her best mask, the sexy-yet-confident one, and stood right in front of him. Her cleavage was popping out. Her nipples almost showed. Good god, she looked like a total fucking slut.

Jonathan's eyes widened as he saw her, and then a playful smirk settled on his lips. He waited for her to make the first move. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"Hi, there," Isabelle said, and her voice, thank god, was silky smooth and confident. It flowed nicely, in a sexy manner. She felt like a whore, which should've disgusted her, but it was her job for the night. Be the whore, save her best friend. She didn't really care as long as everyone was home safe by the time the night ended.

"Hello." His smirk turned into a grin.

"What's your name?" Izzy was standing close to him, but not close enough. He had a leg up against the wall. Without thinking, she went for it. She stood right in front of his knee and then she said, "May I sit?"

His eyes widened even more and he nodded. She spread her legs out so that he could see the outline of her underwear, and then he sat gingerly on his leg. "Would you like to go somewhere more private?" she asked.

He looked hesitant. He glanced over at Clary's direction, and so did Isabelle. "Did the pretty redhead catch your eye?" she asked innocently. Simon hadn't reached them yet.

"You have no idea," he said, but it sounded like he was breathing it out slowly. Then he shook Isabelle off abruptly. "I can't go anywhere. I'm sorry. I'm kind of―I can't get distracted."

"She's taken," Izzy said. "And I'm not."

"I saw you with some guy."

"Saw me, huh?"

"Fuck off," Jon growled.

She smirked. She knew she had him. "I'll show you a fun time. If you wanna hook up with the redhead―" Izzy jerked her head towards Clary "―then you'll have time."

Jonathan returned her smirk. She saw that he was giving in. "I guess it won't hurt."

"No, it won't." God, guys were so stupid, Isabelle thought.

"Let me just make a call first," he said. Isabelle started to panic.

Just as he was starting to leave, she grabbed his arm, "Shit, we don't have much time! My crazy ex is here. Just fuck me, you dickhead." And before he could react, she pulled him to her, and they were kissing. His mouth tasted like alcohol and cigarettes. She swallowed down the bile that rose up her throat as he pulled her closer to him to kiss her harder. Soon, he had her pinned against the wall. He was kissing her neck and she was leading his hands through her body. She felt him squeeze her breasts, and since he wasn't looking, she shut her eyes. Then she gave Simon a panicked look from the distance, even though he couldn't see it. She felt tears of desperation threatening to come out, but she blinked them away. She wouldn't cry. She pulled him closer to her as his lips found her waist.

"Let's go somewhere more private," she urged.

"Mhmm," he murmured, taking her hand and leading her through one of the four exits. This one was the left one. At least she got him away. All she had to do. It wouldn't be so―

Her thoughts were cut off by him slipping his hand down her panties.

Izzy wanted to scream until she had no voice. _Help me! Somebody. Please. Simon. God._ She shut her eyes and fought back the pool of tears that had settled in her eyes. She had promised Simon. She had to keep her promise. Even if it meant going all the way with Jonathan.

She decided that, if she had to do this, she'd enjoy it. She pinned him against the wall. His eyes were surprised, but all she did was kiss him. Kiss, kiss, kiss. Mouth open, tongues almost down each other's throats, hands under his shirt, playing with his nipples, stroking his abs, and then going down his pants. She felt him tense.

"Too much for you?" she asked teasingly.

"Not nearly enough," he gasped out, and then her phone rang.

"Hold on." She held up a finger. _Simon._ Thank god. She hung up. "I've gotta go. But it was nice meeting you. You were amazing." She giggled and glanced at him one last time before going into the club.

###

As soon as Isabelle took off towards Jon, Simon walked quickly towards Clary and Jace. They were dancing, lost in their own world, and Simon hated to break their romantic trance. But he had a bad feeling about Jonathon being there. Somehow, he suspected that he wasn't there to snag some girls. Simon glanced at Izzy. She was sitting on something―was that his leg?―and talking to Jon. He swallowed the anger that formed in his chest and marched toward his best friend.

"Clary?" he said as soon as he was standing in front of her. Clary stopped dancing, her mouth open as if she was gonna say something.

"What do you want, Lewis?" snapped Jace, but Simon managed to ignore it.

"What is it?" Clary asked softly, gently, and he hated himself for having to ruin her night, for having to tell her―but he had to. Otherwise, the night would turn out to be far, far worse.

"Jonathan―he's here," Simon replied.

Her mouth was open wide. Then she shut it. Her expression clouded.

It was Jace who spoke next. "Who's Jonathan?"

Clary took a deep, trembling breath. "Jonathan is my brother."

There were moments of silence. Moments that kept going on forever. Simon realized how silent it was, considering they were in the loudest club he'd ever been to. (And the only one, not that it mattered.)

He started noticing the little things. People dancing around them. The song playing. He focused on the song.

_Am I moving too fast? _

_Am I thinking too slow? _

_I just want to know. _

_So I took all night to write this stupid love letter to you, _

_Yeah you, from me, to you, _

_And all the time that I wasted on this stupid love letter to you, _

_Fuck you, from me, to you. _

Simon decided that it was best not to concentrate on the song. It was way too depressing. And heartbreaking. And it reminded him of his only ex-girlfriend. It reminded him also of when he first met Clary. Of when he first loved her. And of when he first got his heart broken and realized Clary had a boyfriend, and it wasn't him, and she didn't have the slightest idea that her best friend might've liked her.

Another song came on. He recognized it as one of Clary's favorites.

_Life's too short to even care, whoa,_

_Losing my mind, losing my mind, losing control,_

_These fishes in the sea, they're staring at me,_

_Whoa, whoa, _

_A wet world aches for a beat of a drum, whoa._

_If I could find a way to see this straight, _

_I'd run away to some fortune, _

_That I should have found by now. _

_Life's too short to even care, whoa, _

_Coming up now, coming up now, out of the blue, _

_These zombies in the park they're looking for my heart, whoa, whoa, _

_The dark world aches for a splash of the sun, whoa_

_If I could find a way to see this straight, _

_I'd run away to some fortune, _

_That I should have found by now, _

_And so I run out to the things they said could restore me, _

_Restore life the way it should be, _

_Waiting for this cough syrup to come down._

Simon never knew why she liked it. She'd had an obsession with it ever since the last school year had ended, and now, when he saw her face, he knew it hadn't changed. But now he could see why. He knew that the song dealt about a person whose life had gotten so dark and so confusing that he or she wanted to go back to how it was. Clary wanted the same thing, but she didn't know how to. With her parents, with her boyfriend, or with anything. That, right there, was why Clary liked the song. He almost felt proud to figure it out, but then was snapped out of his reverie when he remembered that Jonathan was here.

"Jonathan," Simon reminded her. "He has to be here for a reason, and I suspect it isn't a good one. We have to call your mom, Clary. We have to get out of L.A now." He urged her to listen.

"I can't, Si," she said, her voice a bit helpless. "I need to see him. I need to see my brother."

She sounded as if she was about to cry.

"Clary," Simon said, pulling her into a hug. "Clary, listen. I know you want to see your brother. I know you do. But you can't. Your mom has been trying hard to keep you from him for a reason. And if you see him―what if he takes you away? Back to your dad?"

"The Jon I remember wouldn't dare." But she knew as well as Simon did that the Jon she knew was long gone.

"Clary, please. Come on. I've got Izzy trying to distract him, and it isn't very pretty. Please," he begged.

"Can someone," said Jace, "please tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Her brother," Simon said, pointing at Clary, "is an asshole who has been with her dad―not in that way, Wayland, I see where this is going―but anyway, he's been with her dad. And her dad is the reason Jocelyn, her mom, has been moving her around everywhere."

"And you're convinced he means danger," Jace said. He didn't wait for Simon to nod his head. He turned to Clary and said, "Babe, we need to go," in the gentlest way he could.

"No." She shook her head. Simon rolled his eyes. She was so damn stubborn. "I want to speak to him."

The problem? When Simon turned to look at where Izzy was, she was gone.

"Crap," he said, taking his phone out. "Right. Hold on." He called Isabelle. She didn't answer.

"There's Izzy," said Clary. Sure enough, she was headed their way. Simon realized that she must've thought they were distracted. She looked confused for a second, and then her eyes widened as she realized that he wasn't done warning Clary. They weren't safe, and Jonathan was still here.

###

Clary didn't know what to do.

There was the whole, "Hey, your brother's here, so we have to leave," issue. She didn't want to leave his brother. She had so many questions, and he had so, so many answers. Answers she needed. She craved them. She'd been hiding her whole life, and she didn't wanna do it anymore. She wanted out. Not just out of hiding, but out of the whole family shit. Since when was her mother going to realize that she needed her own life? She wanted to love her father, too. She wanted to know him, and her brother.

"Clary," said Simon impatiently, "we have to go. Come on." His voice was quiet, a harsh whisper, yet she couldn't make herself leave. Her feet wouldn't move and her eyes were glued to that door.

"Clary." This time, Jace was speaking. He was tugging at her hand. "Come on, babe, we have to leave."

"She won't leave," Simon muttered. "Un-fucking-believable. Will someone just please slap some sense into her?"

"I've got it," Isabelle said brightly. "Simon, go find Alec and Magnus. Jace, you stay at a distance."

"Izzy," Clary said, shaking her head, her curls bouncing as the boys complied. "Look, I'm not leaving. I've been running, Iz, my whole life I've been running, and he has answers. I need answers."

"Clary, I know you do. And you'll get them, I promise. Just please not like this. I just spent ten minutes with the dude, Clary, and he's not―" Isabelle took a deep breath "―he's not the kind of brother you want to have.

Clary felt her heart constrict at Izzy's words. _He's not the kind of brother you want to have. _She didn't care. She wanted his brother, yes, but she also wanted answers, the kind that only he would give her.

"Izzy," she said, frustrated. "Look, here's the thing: I know he isn't perfect. He's far from it. But he's my brother, and I'm his sister, and I need answers or I just―I don't know what I'm gonna do. Hell, I don't know what I'm doing right now, but I just need to see him and ask him what the hell is going on." Clary took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to keep the tears from falling down her bright green eyes.

"I get it," Isabelle said quietly. "I do. I know how hard it is to run away from answers, from things you've always wanted―but you have to, Clary. You have to, because if you don't, you don't know what'll happen. And I don't wanna find out what will happen."

Clary sighed. "Izzy, I just can't. I have to."

"I'll talk to your mom. If she refuses, we'll search her office. Call police. I know a guy. But come on," she pleaded, "you can't go to your brother."

Clary thought about it long and hard. If she went with her brother, there was a chance that he might've turned out to be like Izzy described him, and she just couldn't risk it. She couldn't risk her brother hurting her even more than necessary. She could not risk anything. But at the same time, she wanted answers. She needed them. She needed to know why she'd been running for so long. What was so terrible?

"Fine," she said with a defeated sigh. "But I am so, so mad at you."

"Don't worry. I bet Jace is up to those ten rounds," Izzy said, winked, and called Simon. She told him Clary had accepted to leave, and he said he'd meet them at the car with Alec and Magnus.

The girls walked toward where Jace stood, leaning against a wall. "Hey," he said to Clary. He gave her a kiss and pulled her close to him. Her arms were around his waist, and his arm around her neck. "I'm glad you didn't stay."

She said nothing, just tightened her grip on his waist and waited for the walk to be over. _Just let it be over, I won't have to think about it, won't have time to regret it―_

A hand yanked her backwards, and she lost her grip on Jace and her sight on Isabelle. A hand, probably the same one, put a cloth over her mouth. Clary twisted and kicked and flailed her arms, but it was useless. The cloth smelled funny, and she couldn't quite remember what it was, but she knew that it couldn't be good. Too soon, the world turned black, and she fell into the darkness.

###

Jace couldn't believe that she'd come so quickly.

She was a girl, to his surprise. Not a boy. But she was very skilled―for a girl. Sadly, Jace was also very drunk, and Isabelle was no better. So it was no surprise that, in the end, the girl was gone with Clary, and now Jace and Isabelle were lying on the floor, speechless, too stunned to utter a word.

She had black hair under the hoodie. He couldn't tell the color of her eyes. She was small, but still bigger than Clary. She came out of the shadows. She seemed to blend in.

He still didn't know her.

And he hated himself for letting Clary go.

Jace just stared like an idiot, his nose bleeding and his sides aching, as his girlfriend was taken away, and he didn't do a damn thing to stop it. He was so full of self-hatred at that moment.

"Hey," Izzy said softly by his side. He wouldn't look at her. "Jace, listen. You did everything you could. And if you dare argue with me, I will run you over with my car."

"It's not your car," he replied matter-of-factly, and she snorted.

"Might as well be." She stood up. "Look, we've been out for a while. I know it may not seem like it, but there's a huge chunk of my memory that's missing."

"No there isn't," Jace said to her with a scowl. "Stop trying to make me feel better. I let that bitch take Clary. I did. Not you."

"Shut up and think, you moron," Isabelle snapped. "I know you. They put on us what they put on her."

Before Jace could utter another word, he saw Simon walking their way with Alec and Magnus. He took a deep breath. What was he gonna tell them? Simon was gonna kill him. Shit.

"They took her," Isabelle said, her voice shaky. "We tried, I swear we tried, but they gave us this thing and then we woke up and we only remember seeing her leave with Clary." She looked as close to tears as Izzy had ever looked in public.

"What?" Simon's eyes were blazing with fury. "So, hold on. They took Clary?"

"Yes," she said, and then she buried her face in his neck and he wrapped his arms around her. Jace stared at them, not knowing what to do. Clary was gone. She was gone. He had to find her, and he knew it.

"We have to find her," said Alec, before Jace could. "They couldn't have gone far. You were out for, like, two minutes."

"We can't find her!" Jace exclaimed, furious. "It's up to her mother."

Three pair of eyes stared at Jace curiously, obviously not knowing what the hell he was talking about. Simon, however, caught on for a bit.

"You have to tell us," he said to Jace. "And then we have to get Clary back."

Jace took a deep breath and told them everything. He told them about the letter they'd gotten, and he could see Simon piecing everything together. Of course he knew. Simon provided some extra information, and together, they pieced it together.

"It's decided, then," Isabelle said.

Jace nodded. "We have to go talk to Jocelyn."


	16. Chapter 16

**First of all, I'd like to apologise.**

**I know it's been almost four months since I updated. I know, and I'm sososososo sorry. Truth is, I've had this chapter written for a very long time. But I just kept writing and only got around to updating now. Also, maxwaylandgrey had to beta, and we have busy lives. Sometimes, we're lazy and we don't do anything because we're too tired.**

**Anyways, again, I'm very, very sorry that I haven't updated in so long. I'll try to go back to updating every week or two, but I'm very busy with school so I can't promise anything. I hope you like this chapter! :) Thanks to maxwaylandgrey for beta'ing, and thanks to a very special person for keeping me inspired. :)**

**Please leave a review! Xxx**

* * *

><p>She couldn't speak.<p>

Clary didn't know where she was. There was only darkness, with bits of moonlight spilling through the almost-closed windows. She realized that the small space open was the provider of the air she was breathing. She told herself to breathe, not to panic. Even though the room was unfamiliar, she couldn't have gotten there without her feet moving, so this was conscious. Or maybe it wasn't. It could be a nightmare.

But then she remembered.

She remembered Simon telling her to leave. She agreed to it, somewhat reluctant. And just as she was about to get to safety, someone got her from behind. She hadn't fallen to the floor. But she remembered shadows taking Isabelle and Jace, too. She wondered if they were already in a room like hers, surrounded by darkness and given only bits of oxygen, just enough to keep them alive. Clary could only breathe through the nose. Her mouth was snapped shut, and she was unable to open it because of something that was tied to the back of her head, but she wasn't tied to anything—she could move. She was in a bed, sitting. She'd tried everything—the window, but it had bars outside, and she was too weak to try to open them, and she suspected that even if she did try, they wouldn't budge. The door was locked from the outside. There was nothing else. Only one window, one door, and herself.

Why was she there? If her father wanted revenge, kidnapping her wasn't exactly the way to get it. Was her mother even aware of what happened? Would she even come get her? Was Jace going to help? When was she getting out of there? Who else was there? Clary hoped her friends and family were safe, but she didn't know. Her father was vicious when he wanted to be, and no one was safe with him in California.

Then the door opened, and artificial light spilled in, making the moonlight seem like nothing. It was quickly shut, of course. All the person did was come up to Clary with a tray. The person, whose face Clary couldn't identify yet, set the tray down on the floor. Then the person looked at Clary.

It was her brother.

She wanted to talk to him—scream at him, cry, ask him why—but all that came out was a strangled noise from the back of her throat, muffled by the piece of cloth preventing her voice to come out fully. The tears were falling from her eyes and down her cheeks fast enough, and even though she tried to contain them, she was always unsuccessful. She pleaded him with her eyes, begged him to listen, but all he did was nod, as if he somehow knew what she was trying to say, and walk back outside.

Traitor.

How was she going to eat? She examined the food. It was a salad—Caesar salad, her favorite—with breadsticks. She recognized it: Olive Garden's. Why would her father bother to buy her what had always been her favorite meal if he was just going to keep her locked in? Clary wished she had more answers, but unfortunately, all she had was herself and the darkness, and a million questions swam through her mind.

The door opened once again, revealing a taller figure than the previous one. Even in the darkness, even though he'd changed, Clary recognized him immediately. She could only make out his slightly messy hair, the neatness of his clothes, the fanciness in the way he walked, and the stiffness in his posture. Yet she knew it was him. Who else would it be?

"Clarissa," her father said, surprising her, "do you know why you're here?"  
><em><br>I'd gladly answer that with a no if you took the damn cloth off my mouth!  
><em>  
>She felt the tears coming again, but she pushed them back and just stared at her father, Valentine. He'd barely changed, just aged a few years. She barely remembered him, really. She knew this Valentine—the one that was always demanding, cruel, manipulative—but she didn't know her father, the guy who fell in love with her mother and helped her through birth.<p>

"Oh," he said to the darkness. "You have your mouth bandaged." No shit. He walked over to her and didn't care when she flinched as he placed two hands on the back of her head and began working on her knot. She was terrified of her father, although she knew he only wanted her for bribery.

"I know what you want," Clary said, her voice croaky from being unused a few hours, maybe days. "You aren't gonna get it, you know. She hates me."

"Hates you?" Valentine looked at her incredulously. "You're the most precious thing she has. She loves you beyond words. Of course she's gonna come for you!"

"No." She shook her head. "She doesn't give a fuck if I die, Valentine!"

"I am your father and you will call me that."

"I'll call you nothing, you sick bastard!" she yelled, and knew it was a mistake even before his fist connected with her face. She raised a hand to touch her face, and her fingertips were covered in blood. She didn't show any emotion, just stared at Valentine.

"Call. Me. Your. Father."

"Valentine," she said, "can I eat in peace now?"

He threw his hands up. "When your darling boy is dead, then you'll learn how to respect your father." He knew that this would affect her, and Clary knew it, which is why she showed no emotion whatsoever, even though his words were killing her inside. He was threatening her with Jace! He had to leave. He had to run away. Valentine couldn't get to Jace—he couldn't! What would happen? Jace would die, and Clary was sure of it. When her father said something, he meant it.

"My 'darling boy,' as you call him, is nothing more than a summer item that I use merely for pleasure," Clary spat back, crossing her arms over her chest. "He means nothing to me. If you want to kill him, then do it. If you think it'll affect me for one fucking second, Valentine, then you're dead wrong."

"We'll see about that." He walked over to the door and, just when he was about to leave, he turned back to her. "Oh, and Clary?"

"What?" she snapped.

He grinned. "I'll tell him you said hello."

###

"Maybe you should get some sleep," Isabelle offered, but it was no use. All Jace had done since the night before was pace back and forth, trying to come with a plan. And when he did come up with a plan, it was the kind of plan that would never work out. He was overcome with nerves and constantly beating himself up over what happened. Simon had spent the night. He and Izzy took shifts, staying up with Jace while the other was sleeping, and vice-versa. It was Simon's turn to sleep. They were all exhausted, but Jace doubted the guy was getting much sleep. His best friend was missing, taken by her father to God knew where.

"Isabelle," he said through gritted teeth, "I can't sleep! She's out there, and I don't know what happened, and if they lay a finger on her, I will lose it." He pulled at his hair, something he did when he was stressed or restless. This time, he was both. Isabelle sighed and walked over to him.

"Jace, it isn't your fault. I know you may think it is, but it isn't. This goes way beyond you! We're gonna see Jocelyn as soon as Simon wakes up, and don't you fucking dare wake him up, because it's seven in the morning and I bet Jocelyn is sleeping as well." Isabelle scowled at Jace, her hands on her hips, her eyebrows raised as if daring him to go against her word. "Get some sleep, Jace. I'll wake you up if someone calls, and when Simon's up, we'll wake you up and go find your girl. But alone, we'll just get into more trouble."

Why was she being so reasonable? She wasn't the reasonable one, Alec was. However, Jace knew Alec agreed, for the boy had declared that his sister knew what to do and had collapsed on his bed. Clearly, he and Isabelle had talked it over when Jace was unaware of it.

"Izzy," he said, his voice sounding much more tired, like it didn't hold a fight. "I'm just . . . waiting isn't for me. I'm sick of waiting around for nothing when I could be doing something."

"I know," she said, "but tiring yourself isn't gonna help either of you, so go. I swear, as soon as I hear a word, I'll wake you up."

He looked at her warily. They'd lived together for a long time, and he knew she could be trusted, but what if she lied? What if she just wanted him to go to bed so that he'd get some rest and then he overslept and she didn't care and when he woke up Clary would be home?

Obviously, it was his paranoid, restless self talking.

"Okay, I'll go to bed. But wake me up, Isabelle. Promise me," Jace insisted.

She rolled her eyes. "I swear, Jace, now go to bed!" She pushed him up the stairs playfully and waited until she heard the slam of his door. Jace knew this because it was what Maryse used to do when they were young. He lay down on the bed, thinking of Clary, of the day and how it'd turned out to be. He didn't really care what happened to him, not at all. All he wanted to do was see Clary safe—that was all he wanted. To feel her touch, to kiss her lips, and to hear her voice . . . it meant the world to him.

That was his last thought before he gave in to sleep.

###

Isabelle waited for Simon to wake up. She knew Jace was already asleep, and she didn't know how she knew it. Jace was hard to figure out, but when it came to Clary, he was an open book. He loved her, and Isabelle knew it. Izzy loved her too, which was why she found herself crying in the middle of the night in her living room while waiting for her shift to end.

Technically, it should've ended when Jace went to bed, but she couldn't sleep. She kept thinking about Clary. Her best friend, or the closest thing she had to one. She was the girl Isabelle trusted with her life, the girl she could tell everything to, the girl she could tease, the girl who could tease her, the girl who made her smile when she cried . . . she was her best friend, and Isabelle couldn't lose her. Not when she worked so hard not to fuck it up, not to push her away.

Clary was the total opposite of her, in some ways. She'd had to live with so much, while Isabelle had always had it relatively easy. Not with love, though. Never with love. Love was a bitch that fucked both of them up, and Clary let it change her physically, but Isabelle . . . she didn't think she could fall in love again. She was taking things mildly slow with Simon, and she couldn't admit that she was in love yet, but she definitely felt something different than with the other guys she'd been with. She was genuinely interested in him as a person, not because of how he looked or how much money he had, and that said something about her feelings. When Isabelle didn't want to welcome love, Clary was ready to. Sometimes cuts heal, even though Clary's had gone a little deeper. Isabelle just found tonight. With a home life so fucked up, all Clary had been looking for was escape. And she'd gotten it—up until she found out the guy she was in love with cheated on her.

Isabelle, on the other hand, had been used. Boys liked her body, and she was stupid enough to think they liked her personality—her stubborn, sarcastic self. Apparently, that wasn't it at all. Big boobs and a big ass was what they were interested in, and she was always naïve enough to fall. Sooner rather than later, she began to realize it was the only contact she'd ever have with guys, and she decided it was better than no contact at all. She learned not to care about emotional intentions, so when Simon came into her life and she found out how they felt about each other, she was more than surprised. She was happy and sad and angry and surprised and insecure. She was confused. But she was changing. Slowly, but surely, she started to change her mind about love. Simon was what made her change her mind about it. Isabelle stopped believing in love a long time ago, but then Simon taught her what it was like. She wouldn't say she was in love, of course, but she'd say she learned how to appreciate boys in an emotional level. She was getting there, but it would take time. The best things in life did, after all.

Isabelle kept crying. She cried for Simon, because she didn't deserve him and he could do so, so much better. But she cried for Jace and Clary. Clary, because she was gone and no one knew where she was and god, Isabelle was worried and it was tearing her apart how there was no way to know if one of her best friends was okay, and she was going to die if somebody didn't tell her anything. What if Clary was dead? What if they were—oh god, no, no, no, no. Isabelle begged her mind not to go there, because if it did, Isabelle would sob and somebody would hear and they'd worry even more.

She also cried because of Jace. Her brother. Her friend. Jace. Jace, who never believed in love, either. Jace, who didn't think much of every bimbo he fucked. Jace, who fell head over heels for Clary, who was so happy with her, who couldn't dream of life without her now that he discovered love. Jace, whose girl was taken from him twenty-four hours after they made love to each other. Why did these things happen? If life wanted to make a point, then why not use the people who didn't really matter? People would learn the point without being affected.

Maybe we're the unimportant people to someone else, and it isn't our lesson to learn.

Isabelle was still angry. She was angry at the world for taking Clary away from them, and for leaving them clueless as to where she was. She was angry at herself, although she wouldn't admit this to Jace. She was angry for the same reasons he was, but she knew she had to be the mature one, because she hadn't lost the person she was in love with, and if losing a best friend felt like losing a part of her soul, losing the person she was in love with must've felt like losing his soul entirely, having it ripped apart and stepped on over and over again.

###

When they arrived at Jocelyn's house a few hours later, Jace felt a bit better when it came to the sleeplessness. His friends woke him up when they said they would, and fifteen minutes later, they were greeted by a very sleepy Jocelyn at the front door.

"Where's Clary?" Jocelyn asked warily. "I thought she was with you."

Jace could barely look at her. "Something happened. It's really important that we talk."

Even though it looked like Jocelyn didn't want to believe what the teenagers were saying, she still nodded and ushered them inside, locking her door in the process. Jace's guess was that she had a suspect, and her bets were all on Clary's father. How were they going to tell Jocelyn? She was a mother, for shit's sake!

Isabelle cleared her throat. "We went out yesterday, as you probably know. Well, we were going to have fun. And then . . . I don't know exactly how, but after some explaining from Simon, we realized that your ex-husband's men tracked us down and they somehow knew you wouldn't be here that night. So they took Clary. We tried. We really, really tried." She looked on the verge of tears.

Jocelyn covered her mouth with one hand and held up her index finger. Before Jace could process what was happening, she'd taken off running, screaming, "Luke! Luke, wake up!" It would've been comical if it wasn't for the reason behind the screaming.

Luke appeared then, just behind her. He won tan khaki's and a polo shirt. "I was just about to go out golfing," he said, giving her a quick peck before he realized they weren't alone. He cleared his throat. "Good morning."

"Luke," Jocelyn said as he held her. Her shoulders shook. "Luke, Clary's gone."

He glanced at the teenagers, who were trying hard not to look too disgusted by what they'd witnessed. "It was Valentine, wasn't it?"

They all nodded, but it was Simon who spoke up. "Luke, I tried to tell her. I saw Jon, and she saw him, but I told her it was bad news and to leave it alone. By the time she decided to go, it was too late. They got to her." His voice cracked at the very last sentence, and he buried his face in his hands.

"He's insane," Luke muttered.

"Do you think they're still in California?" Jocelyn asked Luke.

It was Jace who answered. "He wants you to go. That's why he has her—because of you."

"Why?"

"You know why." Jace stared at her. He hated being so rude to her, especially when he was his girlfriend's mother, but she didn't seem to care about the fact that her daughter was being held hostage by her own father, who was a power-hungry son of a bitch!

"Jace," Isabelle said sternly. She turned to Jocelyn. "What he means to say is, he wants revenge for what you did. And if you want Clary back, you're gonna need to pay."

###

Clary didn't realize she'd fallen asleep until she woke up and felt the stiff sheets covering her arms. She sighed. At least she didn't have the bandage on her mouth anymore. She knew better than to scream, though. Her father was a very impatient guy. When she was a baby, he hated it when she cried. He was a bad dad when it came to that, but overall, he wasn't the worst.

No, that happened when her mother fucked their life up.

She didn't remember too much what her childhood was like. Her father was mostly absent, although they did go to church on Sundays and went out for a meal afterward. She didn't know why they did that, because Jocelyn wasn't a religious person and neither was her dad, but she decided to take a guess and told herself repeatedly that it was because they wanted to be a normal family with normal days and no fights, all about appearances. What she hated was that her mother actually acted the part in her father's story. Clary couldn't realize what was happening, but she was eleven and hating the world, so she rolled her eyes at everything and just stared straight ahead.

What she remembered most were the fights. Screaming, cursing, banging, crying . . . her father was a monster, and she knew it even when she was only seven years old and saw her mother crying outside of her room. She'd asked Jocelyn why she wasn't with her father sleeping, and Jocelyn replied that her father was too tired and needed to be alone. Clary was only seven, so she couldn't have cared less, but it was all part of what happened later on.

Jocelyn planned it for long, and they all knew it. When she took Clary and all the money, leaving Jon and Valentine without a cent, she left her life behind, her freedom. It was all about running, hiding, and luxuries. It was all about spending time with Luke and leaving Clary behind, mostly for her own safety. But it didn't matter, because all of that time when she didn't have a mother wasn't worth it in the end. Now, she'd still been caught, and she was still waiting for somebody to come get her. She buried her face underneath the blankets and pushed the tears away.

The door opened, revealing the same artificial light that had illuminated the room broadly the day before. "Clary," said Jon. She didn't reply. "Clary, please." Still no answer. "Clary, I'm sorry. I was just angry and I—I didn't have a choice, Clare Bear." Hearing his old nickname for her was like a slap across the face, a hard one, that hurt more than a stab in the back. She was going to sob if he didn't leave her alone.

"Okay." He sighed and there was the sound of metal against a surface. "I'm gonna leave now. Be back when it's time to bring you breakfast."

The door slammed shut. Jon seemed upset and genuinely sorry, but if he was, then why was he still there? Why was he still working for his father if he regretted what he did oh-so-much? All of the questions just grew with intensity inside of her, but she pushed them back down and bit her lip, trying to decide on what to do. She sighed. Jon was her brother—but wait. Those thoughts had gotten her to where she was now—away from Jace, the safety of her home, the comfort of her friends. The fact that Jon was her brother didn't mean anything. Family didn't mean anything anymore. Her two parents had lived their lives fighting for control, and their two kids that didn't do anything were stuck in the middle anyway.

Clary rocked herself back and forth, trying to tune out the videos replaying in her head, the memories of the bruises and broken noses her mother sported every morning. It'd be a surprise all the time, and her dad was up way too early for her to question him.

One time, when Jon and her father were out of town, Jocelyn snuck in to Clary's room while she drew. At first, Clary was annoyed—didn't her mother know how to knock?—but then her expression softened when she saw the tears streaming down her mother's face.

"Mom." It was more of a sigh than an actual word. "What's wrong?"

"Clary, honey, listen to me." Her mother gripped her hands tightly, which was very unusual and slightly alarming. "We're leaving today. In an hour. Pack your things, all of them. Meet me outside in an hour. Baby, I'm so sorry."

In an hour, Clary met her mother outside. She carried two heavy suitcases.

"Good," Jocelyn said, inspecting everything and checking that her daughter forgot nothing. She climbed into a taxi and gave them an address Clary didn't recognize.

"Mom, where are we going?" Clary asked.

Her mother didn't look at her when she said, "Away."

Clary left it at that, but she always wondered why. At the moment, nothing made sense, but now, everything does. She just wished she could have her old family back, and she wished she could have Jace. It hurt so much to miss him. To miss her friends. To miss her life.

She looked up and hoped silently that they'd be here soon.


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello guys! So, I've finally gotten off my ass and updated! I'm happy. :) There are two more chapters left, I think. Don't quote me on it. I hope you're all well! :D Your reviews have made my life every time I read them, so thankyou very much! Here's chapter 17. I hope you like it. :) Leave a review, please! Love you allll xxxx**

******Songs in this chapter (in order): **

**How To Save A Life - The Fray  
>Terrible Things - Mayday Parade<strong>**  
>Hey There Delilah - Plain White T's<br>Paradise - Coldplay**

* * *

><p>Jace didn't know why he was there. It was no use, just standing there, wishing he'd have done something differently, but there he was. Clary's room hadn't changed a bit since the last time he was there, except the maid had cleaned it and it looked less like Clary, who was messy and fun and his. This room looked like a fucked up version of her old room, and he decided he liked her old room much, much more. He knew where he wanted to go. She wasn't dead, and he knew it. But he wanted to have her close―hold her in his arms, spend more time together, act like they were just two teenagers who were in love―so he went to her room and opened her closet, the place where he knew Clary's music was.<p>

Clary's music was what made her who she was. Jace was surprised to find out, on his own, that he didn't really know much about her music taste. He knew that music made her who she was. When he first met her, she didn't seem too . . . hardcore. She dressed like most people, only most people at the event probably didn't swear nearly as much as she did, and he bet they didn't have a nose ring. He smiled at her ring. It was obvious that her mother, near as always, hated it. But Clary loved it, and so did Jace. It was the only thing―along with her attitude―that told him she wasn't a girl he could mess with.

He took ten random albums out of her collection and exited her room without a second thought, because if he allowed himself to be there for a moment longer, he knew he'd break. Jace knew he'd start crying, and he couldn't cry. He had to find her. He had to.

He knocked on Simon's door. The other boy opened the door, looking sleepy, and it occurred to Jace that he woke Simon up. Too bad. "Simon, do you have a CD player I could borrow?"

Simon glared at Jace. "Clary has one, you know." Still, Jace knew the other boy was fully aware of why he was asking him instead of going to Clary's room, so he opened a drawer and pulled out a player with headphones.

"I have my own," Jace said, handing back the headphones. "Thanks."

"Whatever, lover boy," Simon snapped. "Get out of my room. I'm tired."

"I kind of noticed," he said, chuckling as Simon flipped him off. He exited the room and, finally, he was able to leave Clary's house. It felt so empty without her. The kitchen reminded them of their flour fight, her room reminded them of their time together, and, well . . . beds reminded him of their first time together, which he cursed himself for.

Their first time had been great. Jace had no complaints about it, but now that it was done, he wanted more, and she wasn't here, and he hated thinking about sex instead of other things, like how his girlfriend could be dead right this second. Angrily, he took a CD out of the grocery back he'd ended up putting them in―courtesy of Simon. It was a CD by The Fray. Jace didn't care about the name, he just pushed the CD inside and listened to the first song that came on, the one she last listened to.

_Step one, you say we need to talk,  
>He walks, you say sit down it's just a talk,<br>He smiles politely back at you,  
>You stare politely right on through.<br>Some sort of window to your right,  
>As he goes left and you stay right,<br>Between the lines of fear and blame,  
>And you begin to wonder why you came.<em>

_Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend,_  
><em>Somewhere along in the bitterness,<em>  
><em>I would have stayed up with you all night,<em>  
><em>Had I known how to save a life<em>

The song reminded him of Clary, as any of these did. She'd told him the story of how she met Maia, about how she tried to help her out, and eventually she did, because Maia stayed alive and stopped self-harming. But what if Clary hadn't been there?

_Let him know that you know best,  
>Cause after all you do know best,<br>Try to slip past his defense,  
>Without granting innocence.<br>Lay down a list of what is wrong,  
>The things you've told him all along,<br>And pray to God, he hears you,  
>And pray to God, he hears you.<em>

He had to stop thinking about her, about this. He kept thinking about how good Clary was, how she didn't deserve a guy like him. He played with women! He didn't know how he could ever think Clary―sweet, rebellious, kind-hearted, sarcastic, amazing Clary―would think he was good enough. He wasn't, and he hated that he wasn't, but there was nothing to be done about it.

_Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend,  
>Somewhere along in the bitterness,<br>I would have stayed up with you all night,  
>Had I known how to save a life.<em>

_As he begins to raise his voice,_  
><em>You lower yours and grant him one last choice,<em>  
><em>Drive until you lose the road,<em>  
><em>Or break with the ones you've followed.<em>  
><em>He will do one of two things,<em>  
><em>He will admit to everything,<em>  
><em>Or he'll say he's just not the same,<em>  
><em>And you'll begin to wonder why you came.<em>

_Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend,_  
><em>Somewhere along in the bitterness,<em>  
><em>And I would have stayed up with you all night,<em>  
><em>Had I known how to save a life.<em>

_Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend,_  
><em>Somewhere along in the bitterness,<em>  
><em>And I would have stayed up with you all night,<em>  
><em>Had I known how to save a life,<em>  
><em>How to save a life.<em>  
><em>How to save a life.<em>

_Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend,_  
><em>Somewhere along in the bitterness,<em>  
><em>And I would have stayed up with you all night,<em>  
><em>Had I known how to save a life.<em>

_Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend,_  
><em>Somewhere along in the bitterness,<em>  
><em>And I would have stayed up with you all night,<em>  
><em>Had I known how to save a life.<em>  
><em>How to save a life.<em>  
><em>How to save a life.<em>

_In the end, Jace decided that the song was a lot like Clary. She regretted the things she couldn't do, the things she could've helped but didn't. That was why Jace loved her. Because, in that way, they were alike. They beat themselves up, time and time again, no matter how stupid the matter was, because in the end, any one thing―no matter how small―can change your life._

He placed another album inside. A slower song came on. It was a piano one, and Jace immediately thought he could play. It went the same way for a bit, and then a male voice started singing.  
><em><br>By the time I was your age I'd give anything,__  
>To fall in love truly was all I could think,<em>_  
>That's when I met your mother, the girl of my dreams,<em>_  
>The most beautiful woman that I'd ever seen.<em>_  
>She said, "Boy, can I tell you a wonderful thing?<em>_  
>I can't help but notice you staring at me,<em>_  
>I know I shouldn't say this, but I really believe,<em>_  
>I can tell by your eyes, that you're in love with me."<em>_  
>Now son, I'm only telling you this,<em>_  
>Because life can do terrible things.<em>

He knew, from the moment he saw her, that Clary wasn't the kind of girl to fall in love. Honestly, it was one of the reasons why going after her was so much fun. He got to see her fall, but he never expected himself to fall, too. He never thought he'd fall for this, for anything, because he was the kind of guy that held his head up high and never looked down.

But he looked down. One second, he looked down at a wonderful redhead and that was all it took.

And he didn't know if it was a good thing or not. Up until the night before last, it seemed like a damn good thing. Love didn't seem too hard, and life seemed to be going well. Life could do terrible things. Life took Clary away and left Jace with no one to hold, to love. And he left him without a friend. She was his friend, no matter what. And that came first, before the making out and the sex.

_Now most of the time we'd have too much to drink,__  
>And we'd laugh at the stars and we'd share everything,<em>_  
>Too young to notice and too dumb to care,<em>_  
>Love was a story that couldn't compare.<em>_  
>I said, "Girl, can I tell you a wonderful thing?<br>I've made you a present with paper and string,  
>Open with care, now I'm asking you please,<em>_  
>You know that I love you, will you marry me?<em>_  
>Now son, I'm only telling you this,<em>_  
>Because life can do terrible things.<em>_  
>You'll learn one day, I'll hope and I'll pray,<em>_  
>That God shows you differently.<em>

She said, "Boy, can I tell you a terrible thing?  
>It seems that I'm sick and I've only got weeks,<p>

_Please don't be sad now, I really believe,__  
>You were the greatest thing that ever happened to me."<em>

_Slow, so slow,_  
><em>I fell to the ground on my knees.<br>__So don't fall in love,  
><em>_There's just too much to lose,  
><em>_If you're given the choice, then I'm begging you choose,  
><em>_To walk away, walk away, don't let it get you,  
><em>_I can't bear to see the same happen to you.  
><em>_Now son, I'm only telling you this,  
><em>_Because life can do terrible things._

Jace could just hope that his story had a happy ending, unlike this one. He hoped that this music was wrong and he wasn't going to lose Clary forever, because he couldn't. He would die. He would . . . he couldn't think about it, no. Clary had to live. Even though this was what she thought her story would end like―or so he thought, anyway―Jace would never let it end this way. He couldn't. He owed it to himself and to her.

The next song was one he recognized immediately. It was one of his favorites, one that Alec liked as well. Who didn't like this song? The steady strum of the guitar began, and then another male's voice started to fill Jace's ears.

_Hey there Delilah,  
>What's it like in New York City?<br>I'm a thousand miles away,  
>But girl, tonight you look so pretty,<br>Yes you do.  
>Times Square can't shine as bright as you,<br>I swear it's true._

_Hey there Delilah,_  
><em>Don't you worry about the distance,<em>  
><em>I'm right there if you get lonely,<em>  
><em>Give this song another listen,<em>  
><em>Close your eyes.<em>  
><em>Listen to my voice, it's my disguise,<em>  
><em>I'm by your side.<em>

_Oh it's what you do to me,_  
><em>Oh it's what you do to me,<em>  
><em>Oh it's what you do to me,<em>  
><em>Oh it's what you do to me,<em>  
><em>What you do to me.<em>

_Hey there Delilah,_  
><em>I know times are getting hard,<em>  
><em>But just believe me, girl,<em>  
><em>Someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar,<em>  
><em>We'll have it good.<em>  
><em>We'll have the life we knew we would,<em>  
><em>My word is good.<em>

_Hey there Delilah,_  
><em>I've got so much left to say,<em>  
><em>If every simple song I wrote to you,<em>  
><em>Would take your breath away,<em>  
><em>I'd write it all.<em>  
><em>Even more in love with me you'd fall,<em>  
><em>We'd have it all.<em>

_Oh it's what you do to me,_  
><em>Oh it's what you do to me,<em>  
><em>Oh it's what you do to me,<em>  
><em>Oh it's what you do to me.<em>

He was mouthing the words, and he didn't even know it. It reminded him of how much it hurt to miss Clary. But he didn't know how many miles there were, how many ways of transportations, or where she was. All he knew was that he couldn't leave her alone, especially not now.

_A thousand miles seems pretty far,  
>But they've got planes and trains and cars,<br>I'd walk to you if I had no other way.  
>Our friends would all make fun of us,<br>And we'll just laugh along because we know,  
>That none of them have felt this way.<br>Delilah I can promise you,  
>That by the time we get through,<br>The world will never ever be the same,  
>And you're to blame.<em>

_Hey there Delilah,_  
><em>You be good and don't you miss me,<em>  
><em>Two more years and you'll be done with school,<em>  
><em>And I'll be making history like I do.<em>  
><em>You'll know it's all because of you.<em>  
><em>We can do whatever we want to.<em>  
><em>Hey there Delilah here's to you,<em>  
><em>This one's for you.<em>

_Oh it's what you do to me,_  
><em>Oh it's what you do to me,<em>  
><em>Oh it's what you do to me,<em>  
><em>Oh it's what you do to me,<em>  
><em>What you do to me.<em>

The song was everything he felt in one melodic tune. He needed her, what he made her feel, and this song? It could be their song.

###

"Simon!" Isabelle yelled in his ear, pushing the blinds open. The blinding light even bothered her for a bit, but not as much as him. A pillow came in contact with her stomach as soon as she started to walk over to Simon.

"Lewis," she said, her voice dangerous, "get the fuck up right now, because we need to find your missing best friend!"

"I'm up!" he said, annoyed. Why couldn't she just let him be? Now he was grumpy, and he hated being grumpy when he just wanted to sleep. He didn't want to be mad at her.

"It's three in the afternoon, Si," she said, her voice a bit softer. His eyes widened and he jumped out of bed in a comical manner. Sure enough, it was three in the afternoon.

"Shit," he said, eyes still wide. He was wearing a t-shirt and some sweatpants.

"You're okay with that. We're in Clary's room. Come on," she said, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him close to her, only to drag him to the room that was his best friend's. Only she wasn't there. Her mother was sitting on a chair, Luke was sitting on another chair, and Jace was sitting on her bed. Isabelle and Simon sat next to him.

"We have a few places down," Jocelyn said as soon as their bodies came in contact with the bed. "Some of them in California, some of them in New York. The thing with him is, we don't know. We ran from him and couldn't risk any contact."

"Hire somebody," Simon blurted out. Everyone was staring at him, and his cheeks turned bright red. "I mean, um . . . you know, like a private investigator."

Jocelyn shook her head. "He owns a company of investigators. Trust me, it isn't going to work out that way. We just need to go directly to the source."

"Which means?"

"It means," she said, staring long and hard at the children, "that while you stay here, with Maryse, Luke and I will go find Clary and everything will be solved."

"I'm going," Jace said, standing up. His fists were clenched, his mouth set in a thin line. Oh, hell. That couldn't be good.

"Jace," Luke said sternly, shaking his head.

"No, Luke, I'm going." Jace's words sounded final. "You went through a lot to get the girl you loved into a safe place. You'd do the same thing for her if our roles were switched. You have no right to tell me that I can't go to save Clary."

"You'll get yourself killed, Jace." Luke sighed, but he knew it was no use. They all did. Simon tried not to bite his nails, an old nervous habit of his, as the two stared at each other.

"I'm going. Maryse won't care," he said.

"If he goes," Isabelle said, standing up, "I go."

"Absolutely not!" said Jocelyn, outraged.

"I know how to shoot, and I've taken martial arts." She smiled slightly. Simon wanted to protest, to say no, that how dare she, that she couldn't leave him, but he couldn't say that. They were useful, and he wasn't.

"We'll talk to your mother," Jocelyn said finally. "Of course, we'll try to leave the unspeakable details out, but yes. We'll let you know."

They decided to count it as a small victory. It was step forward, and more than they asked for.

###

"Can I at least have some paper?" Clary asked her father.

He sighed. "Why on earth would you want paper?"

"Because, Valentine," she said, his name sounding like venom, "I get bored in this hellhole and, in case you haven't noticed―which of course you haven't―I like to draw. So can I just have some damn paper?"

He raked a hand through his hair. "Fine." He took out his phone and dialed a number. "Jon? Yes, bring your sister some paper and two pencils. No sharpener. Yes. Hurry."

"So?" Clary asked expectantly. She needed something to do or else she'd explode. She gave up asking him to let her go, so instead, she decided to draw. If she was going to die, she wanted to leave a message.

"He'll be here in a few minutes. Goodbye, Clarissa." The door shut behind her father, leaving her and the darkness for only a few minutes more until her brother showed up. He didn't greet her, just left the utensils on the floor and stalked off, probably to tell his friends how disgusted and ashamed he was of Clary. Like she gave a fuck.

Once her brother was out of the room, she picked the items up from the floor and sketched. It felt so familiar, grabbing a pencil and draw twirling lines and curves of all lengths. They never ended. That was how her drawings used to be, anyway. When this one ended, it was a girl. There was a cliff. Her hair was loose, her curls allowing her face to show lightly. She was facing the sun. Underneath, Clary wrote:

_When she was just a girl,__  
>She expected the world,<em>_  
>But it flew away from her reach,<em>_  
>So she ran away in her sleep,<em>_  
>And dreamed of paradise.<em>_  
>-Coldplay<em>

Satisfied, she tucked it inside her pillowcase. She was tired and sure several hours had gone by. There had been no food today so far. She shrugged and, bored, went back to bed. She started thinking about Jace. Was he thinking about her? Would he come?

Please hurry, she thought, and then she allowed sleep to consume her.

She dreamed of nothing.


	18. Chapter 18

**Wow, hello! So...two months. Heh. Sorry.**

**However, even if I _did _abandon this story for, like, ever, I'm going to upload the final two chapters. So here's this one, and then the epilogue. That's alllll there is! Thanks to maxwaylandgrey for beta'ing this for me. You're not too bad. :P Thanks to Tay for being awesome! And thank you to everyone who reviews, favorites, and even reads! I love you guys :) xx**

**Enjoy! And review? Pretty please with a cherry on top? ;) **

* * *

><p>In her dream, Jace was back. He came for her the very next day after she willed him to the most, after her father brought her paper. He stood in front of her, his arms outstretched, a relieved smile plastered on his face, and she was sure it mirrored her own. She walked to him, but even as she walked, the distance grew more and more, until she was farther away than where she started.<p>

She saw him mouthing something, but she was too far away to see what it was. She tried to reach for him, but she hit a mirror. She leaned against him, watching as he tried to reach for her. And then, all of a sudden, there was blood oozing out of his chest. In a few seconds, the white floor beneath him was red—the color of blood, deep and menacing. Clary cried out, and before she could do anything, someone covered her mouth.

"Don't scream," the voice said, and then she woke up.

She was back in the dark room, the one she had been kept prisoner in for days, maybe weeks now. For a few minutes, everything was the same. Nothing was different.

Then, she heard the noise.

It was not out of place to hear her door open, but it was the way it opened, like whoever it was wanted it to be a secret. She dared to hope, for one second, that it would be Jace.

But when she glanced over at the door, it was Isabelle.

Clary breathed out in relief as her friend rushed over to her. A million questions rushed through her head, but she ignored them and decided not to ask anything. "Come on," Izzy said, tugging her gently by her hand. "We don't have much time."

"What's going on?" she asked, trying to be quiet as Izzy led her out into the hallway.

"What do you think?" Izzy snapped in her usual annoyed tone reserved for when people were being totally clueless. "We're busting you out, which won't happen unless you shut up!" Then, unexpectedly, she hugged Clary. "God, I've missed you."

"Really doesn't feel like it," she muttered. "Okay, get me out of here. Seriously."

"What, did you think I was kidding before?" Izzy joked. "Follow me. Stay close."

Clary could only nod. "Um, won't people notice me?"

"Yeah. I was taking you to the bathroom to get changed, Clary. What am I now, stupid?" Izzy opened the door to her left and motioned Clary to go in, throwing her a duffel bag. "Don't take long."

"Okay."

Clary went inside, the brightness of the place still surprisingly blinding. The inside of the bathroom was much nicer than she expected it to be. They were in some kind of building, she assumed, though she didn't know why. Inside the duffel bag, there was a wig, some glasses, a white button-up shirt, some trousers, and flats. Also, inside, in the very bottom, there was a note.

_See you soon. Love you. – J_

Even though it was quite simple, the note made her heart flutter. She got dressed quickly. In a pocket inside the bag, there was all the makeup she needed for about a month. Clary rolled her eyes and walked over to the mirror, placed her wig perfectly, applied the makeup as quickly as she could without fucking it up, and then put on the glasses.

"Not bad," she whispered to herself, and then gathered the rest of her things and went out the door.

"Done?" Izzy asked.

"Yeah."

"Good. Come on. Walk straight, like you know what you're doing. Follow my lead when I speak, got it?"

"Okay," Clary said, confused. Lead? She hoped that Izzy wouldn't get her into even more trouble. Busting out of the place seemed like enough. And then there was Jace. Wherever he was, there was no way in hell that he was safe. Her father, although busy, was extremely cautious. If he hadn't noticed she escaped, it was because of some goddamn miracle.

"In case of an emergency," Izzy whispered while they walked down the hallway, "take of your flats, and run as fast as you can."

Clary's blonde wig was itching. She couldn't reach up, she knew that, but that just made her realize that, when she had to run, she had to ditch the wig. "Okay. Um, who else is here?"

"There's your lovely boyfriend, Alec, Magnus, your mom, Luke, Simon, and the entire police force. Oh, and then there's a lawyer."

_"What?"_

"Don't worry. We know what we're doing."

"Really? 'Cause it doesn't seem like it." Clary, needless to say, was worried about the situation. Not just how it would turn out for herself, but for her friends. If something happened to them—and no doubt it would, with the kind of men her father dealt with—she wouldn't forgive herself.

"Trust me, will you?" Then, in a fake, but surprisingly well-done, British accent, Izzy began speaking. "Ms. Williams, how do you like working for Mr. Morgenstern?"

"Well," Clary replied, in her normal accent but a more mature voice, "I like it. He's very considerate of us employees, and he pays us very well."

"All right." Izzy was carrying a clipboard, which was odd, since Clary had not seen her walking around with one. She frowned, but quickly composed herself. She was supposed to be acting, not questioning why her friend had a fucking clipboard.

"Next question?" Clary supplied, but her friend hushed her.

"I am observing," she simply stated. Clary wanted to slap her forehead, but it would've been too obvious._ Honestly, Izzy, you don't have to actually take it so seriously._ She couldn't tell her friend those words, though. She'd be killed rather fast. So, she sucked it up and waited for her friend.

"Seriously—"

"Shhh. Look." Izzy pointed to a corner, where Valentine and Jonathan were talking.

"Why haven't, um, your people gotten to them?"

Isabelle took out her phone. "I don't know." She dialed a few digits. "Hey, it's me. Yeah. Um, Valentine is right in front of my face." There was a pause. No, not literally." A sigh. "Yes, I know." She rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh. Okay. Bye."

"Who was it?"

"Your mom. She said we had to hide you, because the roof is gonna break in about a minute."

Clary's eyes widened. "Um, what?"

"Just come on," she said, and, without hesitation, Clary followed.

"Where are going?"

"Oh, we're trying to find an exit."

"Izzy." Clary shook her head. "You're going from left to right. These corridors are shorter than the other ones, so those must be north and south, and that's where the exits must be."

Isabelle took a few seconds to examine her friend. "What kind of smart gas did they put you in?"

She smacked Izzy's arm. "Come on. Lead the way."

Just then, the ground shook, as if an avalanche was about to happen. The girls wiped the smiles off their faces as people yelled, "Earthquake!" down the hallway and people started running out of the rooms.

Then, completely serious, Izzy said, "Run."

And they ran.

###

The only thought running through Jace's mind as the roof exploded was: _Is Clary okay?_

"Come on, Jace," said Jocelyn, placing a hand on his arm. "We have to go meet Clary. The police will take care of it."

"I just wish I could see that guy—Valentine—and break his goddamn face for doing this to her." He shut his eyes. He didn't want to think—not even a little. If he let himself think, then he'd have to realize that she could've been tortured. Beaten. Starved. He didn't want to think about it. It was crazy, how much he came to care about her. He didn't like it before, but when he almost lost her, he realized that falling in love with Clary was the best thing that could ever happen to him. It was a hard realization, for it came with a lot of pain and the possibility that she might've died. Just like now, he didn't want to think back then. If he let himself think, form an image of how badly they were treating her, then he would have destroyed the entire world just to get her back.

"I want to see him dead," Jocelyn replied to Jace. "But first, I want to see my daughter alive. I want to see her breathing, and I want to see her safe. Are you coming, or will you stay?"

He stood up. He was shaking with rage, and a little bit of excitement, because even though he wanted to kill Valentine for taking Clary away from him, he was immensely happy to have her back.

Jocelyn led him through a certain path that they had planned out carefully before, but he wasn't even thinking about where he was going. He was thinking of what he was going to see when he got there. Clary. He was going to see her red hair, her green eyes, her pale skin, her freckles. He would get to hear her laugh again. He was going to see her smile.

And that just made it all worth it.

It wasn't just being in love that made Jace risk his life. It was the fact that Clary, no matter how rude she was at times, was loved by so many people for a reason. She was kind, and she was brave, and she was funny, and she was the greatest friend anyone could've ever asked for. She was a great daughter, despite the fact that her mother wasn't the best. Clary never stopped loving Jocelyn, despite what she claimed. She never stopped wanting to get her mother back to who she used to be.

And Jace loved that about her. He loved that, sometimes, she could stop being his girlfriend and just be his friend. He loved that she took her time to understand him without judging him. She tried to help, even when she couldn't. She wouldn't give up, because according to her, there was always a way.

He lost her. Or so he thought. When she was taken that night at Pandemonium, Jace stopped living. He stopped breathing. He became more like his old self, always insulting people and always, always irritated at the smallest of things. He wanted to understand why anyone would do that to a girl—_his_ girl. She didn't deserve it. Why was it that the best people were always the ones that got dragged into things that they had nothing to do with?

He snapped out of his reverie when Jocelyn halted. In front of him was a girl wearing business attire, who was formerly wearing a wig that fell off as she ran for her life, who threw her glasses to the ground along with her shoes, and whose hair was the same fiery red, the same messy texture, as it was when she got out of his bed.

Clary.

_His_ girl.

###

By the time the sun went down, Clary could barely stand up.

People kept asking her questions the entire day. Most of them were simple, but others were not. They kept asking her about her father's plans, as if she knew. She was kept hostage, and they were questioning her. She was beyond pissed off, but of course she couldn't tell them that. They were the police.

"Thank you for your time."

Jace helped her stand up. He had been there the entire time, even when Jocelyn had to leave. She had to go to court—an emergency session was called into order.

When they were out of the office, she asked, "Jace, what's Valentine being charged for?"

"Lots of things. Sexual abuse, physical abuse, possession of illegal substances, the fact that he had guns, murder . . ." He paused, then took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that this is happening to you, and that you have to deal with it. But I'm not sorry he's gotten himself in jail. I'm glad that I won't have to think of him taking you from us ever again."

"He's my dad, Jace. And yeah, he's a dickhead, and I would never call him Dad to his face, but he made me. Ewww." Clary scrunched up her nose in disgust. "But yeah. He's my dad, whether I like it or not."

"I don't think he felt the same way, considering he—"

"I know. I want to hate him. I kind of do, actually. I really do. But at the same time, I can't imagine him rotting in jail. Everyone has a good side, even if it's little, or if it rarely shows, or if the person's too full of pride to show it. It's there."

"Clary, he killed someone."

"I know that! And I hate it so, so much. And I'm ashamed that he's my father." She fell against him, exhausted. She was glad that she could start to communicate how she felt about her dad, but it was weird. Usually, in someone's life, the daughter would be spilling this to her mother, for she was the one with the final say in things. But she was glad that she could trust Jace enough to spill her guts out to him. "I'm just tired and sick of this. I want to go home and forget he's alive. I want to curl up in the couch with you and watch those shitty chick-flicks that are only aired on TV. I wanna kiss you so, so bad. But first, I wanna take a shower."

He kissed her, long and hard, for the billionth time that day. "Shower it is. I've always loved them, ever since that one night."

"Oh god."

Clary's phone beeped. It was a text from Izzy. _R u ok? M & A went to eat & I'm in the hotel, bored. Call me. :)_

She replied with,_ I'm fine. J and I are headed straight to the hotel. See you then? Too tired to talk._

"We have to stop at Izzy's room and say hi," Clary told him.

"Okay. She's probably worried. Alec told me to stop by his room too. It's just . . . unbelievable. We finally have you back. Are you okay?" He was looking at her as if he couldn't believe she was there and, quite frankly, she was looking at him the same way, or at least she thought. Clary couldn't believe that the nightmare was finally over. She learned that she had spent two weeks inside—and that was enough. Jace explained that he wanted to get to her straight away, but the police had to gather enough evidence and had to know where she was. Then, they had to make an elaborate rescue plan, plus have everything ready for the emergency court session. And they had to make sure that they caught Valentine. Yes, they did all of those things, and Clary was happy, but those two weeks still felt like a long time, maybe forever, and she would never be able to forget them.

"Hey! I'm fine. Just tired. Really tired."

"Want me to carry you?" Jace asked innocently.

She slapped his arm away, giggling. "You just wish you could."

He pulled her closer. She breathed in the scent of him. He was real, alright. He was there, hugging her, walking with her, and she knew she was safe. It wasn't his fault. None of it was. He was just someone who was idiotic enough to love her and get involved in this.

She liked that about him.

"Jace?" Clary asked, peering up at him.

"Yeah?"

"I missed you." She wrapped her arms around him, holding back tears. She tried to be tough about it, but there's nothing okay about being taken away from everyone you love and not knowing if you would live or die, or how long you would stay in the dark. There's nothing that's okay about being scared like that, and having to wait. Clary wanted it to be okay. She wanted to be okay for him—but she wasn't. She was weak and tired and the memories followed her wherever she went. Her mind kept playing tricks, and she kept thinking that someone was going to take her, even when she was perfectly safe. She knew Jace would feel guilty about it all if he knew—not that he didn't already, but he would feel like it was entirely his fault. She didn't want that. It was her mother's fault, and her own fault for going to her brother. She was stupid to think that he had changed, but sometimes, turning your back on family is what's most unbelievable. She wanted to believe that he was still the same Jon who played with her when their parents fought, who defended her when the little kids in her school bullied her in the playground.

Sadly, that Jon was gone.

"I missed you too. And your nose ring," Jace said, kissing her with all that he had. Clary kissed him back, too. She wanted to let go, to forget everything. She wanted him to know that it was okay. It wasn't his fault that she was all paranoid. But, then again, it also wasn't her fault that she was paranoid. She sighed contently.

"Come on," she said playfully, tugging at his hand. "If you don't hurry it up, we're never gonna make it. Well, that, and Izzy's gonna cut off your balls."

"But I just really wanna kiss you some more." Jace pouted.

"The pout makes you less attractive!" she said in a sing-song voice, letting go of his hand.

He jogged to her and picked her up, swinging her around. She shrieked and said, "Jace, put me down!" but he kept spinning her around, and then he set her down, kissed her on the mouth, and smiled.

"That's what you get for saying something makes me less attractive, Fray."

"Cool. Can we do it again?" She tried putting on her best little kid face to annoy him. He made an annoyed face at her and grabbed her hand.

"Come on, Fray, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"You say that now, but what about when I have to pee?"

"I'll go with you."

"That's disgusting."

"I mean it, Fray." His face was totally serious. "I'm never leaving you again."

She smiled. "And I believe you."


	19. Chapter 19: Epilogue

**Here we go. The last chapter...**

**A/N at the bottom!**

* * *

><p>When Clary woke up, she knew it was the day.<p>

The pale yellow dress lay across her wooden desk. It was a light silk dress that reached halfway through her knees, one that her mother had chosen to be the color of her wedding.

There was a knock on her door. Clary whirled around. "Who is it?"

"Just me," Jocelyn said, opening the door. She was wearing a robe, and her face was full of makeup. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and she was sober. She hadn't had a sip of alcohol for five months, ever since Valentine was sentenced to jail for life, along with the people that worked for him. Served them right. Clary's mom had ordered her to pack her bags, as they were moving back to New York. She was worried at first. She wasn't one of those girls to throw away everything for a boy, but Jace had been there for her when her mother hadn't been. Besides, she had Magnus, Alec, Izzy, and Max to think about. Her worries were quickly dispersed when Jocelyn informed her that Maryse and "the kids," as her mother called them, would be living in New York with them, because Robert and Maryse were getting a divorce.

Their arrival to New York City happened just in time for Clary's mother and Jace's step-mom to work out an arrangement with a school to let them start the school year in exchange for a pretty large sum of money that would be donated for the construction of their new performing arts theatre. So, in the fall, the four of them started in their new school, more specifically in the month of September. Max went to the middle school building, Clary was a junior, and Izzy and Jace were seniors. Alec and Magnus went to NYU; Magnus was studying fashion design, and Alec was studying law. Their life was good―it wasn't the same as the summer, Clary thought, but it made up for the terrible time they had during that last month they were scheduled to stay there.

"Hey, Mom. Where's Luke?" Clary asked.

"Luke's in the art gallery." Jocelyn smiled. Ever since they moved back to the city, Jocelyn had reopened their art gallery franchise from before she started running away, and it had become their "couple thing."

"He's getting ready there?"

"Yeah. He'll meet you at the church. He's agreed not to see me, since there's the whole bad luck thing," Jocelyn said. "Well, I'll leave you to it. I'm gonna just go put on something light so I can finish getting ready at the church."

"Okay," Clary said, giving her a smile. "I'll be ready in, like, thirty. I have to call Jace and see if he's up. He always misses important events. Weddings are probably under his list of 'Must Miss Events.'"

Jocelyn rolled her eyes. "Well, tell him I'm expecting him there. Wouldn't be complete without him, after all."

"I know, right?" Clary smiled at her mom. She was glad that things were back to normal between them―as normal as they would get. Her mom was strict, but she'd let Clary keep her much-adored nose ring. She let Clary have Jace over, since she knew that there was nothing they _hadn't_ done, thanks to her old parenting ways.

"So, okay. What time is it?"

Clary looked over at the clock on her nightstand. "Eight forty-five," she said to her mom.

"We have to leave in less than half an hour!" Jocelyn became frantic all of a sudden. "Okay, um, get ready and grab, like, a yogurt or something. I'll tell the driver to be ready."

Clary laughed at her mother's worry. It wasn't like the wedding was going to go on without the bride being there! Still, her mother―even when she was drunk―liked to be on time. It got annoying, because Clary was the kind of girl who was_ always_ late. It had become a habit, since she had done it so many times in boarding school. "Mom," she said, just before her mother left. "You'll be fine. I know that you're worried something'll go wrong, but don't worry. Everything's gonna be fine. Meet you in the car. But wait!" Clary managed to stop her mom as she attempted to bolt of Clary's room. "Have you eaten anything?"

Jocelyn sighed, as if Clary had asked the most unimportant question she'd ever heard. "Bring me an apple. Love you," she said, hugging her daughter and rushing back to her room. There was a professional makeup artist waiting for both of them at the church, but her mother couldn't go anywhere―not even across the street―without having makeup on.

Clary didn't put makeup on, and she knew her mother would kill her if she wore the dress. What if she got a stain on it? She decided not to take any chances, instead going with a knitted, long-sleeved shirt with a speech bubble in the middle, black skinny jeans, her black converse, and a leather jacket―it _was_ November in New York, after all.

She grabbed her tote bag, which she used as a purse, and dashed down the stairs, hoping her mother wasn't in the car already. She grabbed a yogurt, two granola bars, two juice boxes, and an apple, hoping it'd be enough. Then, she walked outside and, seeing that her mother was already buckled up inside their car, closed the door and locked it. She walked over to the car.

"Am I too late?" Clary asked her mother with sarcasm.

"No, I'm just early." Jocelyn sighed, frowning. "I'm just so worried, you know? My first marriage turned out to be a total disaster, and while Luke is nothing like Valentine, I'm afraid that this is all a joke and God doesn't want me to have a second chance."

"_If_ there's a god." Clary sighed the same way her mother did. "Look, Mom. You fucked up. There. I said it. You were a terrible mother for the longest time ever, and you could've done a lot of things to make it right, but you didn't. That's okay, though. You're human. You make mistakes. You were just trying to protect all of us, and it wasn't easy.

"Luke stuck with you through thick and thin, and if God can't see that you're a wonderful person, then he just shouldn't exist. And I doubt he does," she added, taking a breath before saying. "But if he does, I'm sure he can't find a reason to punish you. Mom, you were on the run for years. You made a mistake. But it's okay now. So, you married a fucked up guy who couldn't be enough of a man to be a good husband and father, and it hurt. So what? It's all over. And Luke? He's a great guy.

"I know I've been talking for a while, but I haven't been able to tell you all of this because I've been scared that you'll be mad at me. You hadn't paid attention to me in a long time, and when you did, it was to reprimand me and send me to a new school, or to use me as a show-off toy. But I get it now, Mom. And I'm sorry I didn't understand it before, and if you're about to apologize, then I accept your apology. I won't let anything ruin this day for you."

By the time she was done speaking, Jocelyn's eyes were shining with tears, her lips trembling as if she might cry. "Thank you for telling me this. I guess that I just tried to forget everything―the way I acted, and why I was so scared. It scares me that I don't know how this whole marriage thing is gonna work out, but I think it's gonna be okay. Thanks to you, baby. I could never do anything if I didn't have you.

"The fact that I was protecting you was the only thing that kept me going, because I knew that I would've holed up in another continent doing nothing, and I would've let him find me. But I had to look after you, because you're my little baby. I couldn't lose you. Not like I lost him." By "him" she meant Jonathon, Clary realized. She never really thought about the pain her mom must've gone through by leaving him behind. She gave birth to him; he was her son, and she had to leave him behind. She didn't think to protect him. That thought must've tormented her the entire time she took a breath and lived.

"It wasn't your fault," Clary said, her voice small. "None of it was. And now you get a chance to start over! It may not be the chance you hoped for at first, but you have me. You have Luke. And you have yourself again." She smiled. She hated being cheesy―it was one of the things she hated the most―but she loved seeing her mother smile.

Jocelyn hugged Clary tightly, and for once, her daughter did not complain. "Thank you."

"Let's go, woman. You have to actually show up to your wedding, you know," Clary joked, and her mother pulled away, sniffling, and started the car.

###

When Jace woke up, it wasn't exactly pleasant.

The wedding, thankfully, was on the week the school had given them off because of Thanksgiving. Had it not been, Jace would've killed Magnus for making all that noise and yelling, "No, no, no, NO!" whenever he didn't like a dress that Izzy was wearing, even though he couldn't change it, because she was one of the bridesmaids, along with Maryse, and one of Jocelyn's friends from high school. Jace was still amazed at the way Jocelyn had changed since he first met her: she had been cold, and definitely a drunk. Now she was a sweet (mostly) and loving (except when he caught Jace and Clary making out in the middle of the night on the couch) person.

"Alec!" Magnus called out, and Jace felt him run down the hallway. With a groan, he pulled the covers over his head. He knew he had to go to the wedding―he wasn't stupid, and he had to be there with Clary―but the whole idea of going to the wedding was . . . weird. That, and the fact that Magnus woke him up made him feel like he was going to murder someone.

Someone opened the door to Jace's bedroom, and his instinct was to close his eyes. The door closed, and no one made a sound.

"I know you're awake." Of course it was Izzy.

"Psychic now, are we?"

"Shut up. Come on, if we wanna sneak off before everyone else and actually get there intact, it has to be now. Bring your suit―but don't put it on yet."

"Whatever you say," Jace said.

"Cool. Be quiet. Meet you out in ten," she said, and just like that, she exited his room like she was never there.

Jace gathered his things pretty quickly: his phone, his suit, and his hairbrush. He quickly got changed into some jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. He put on some converse, and just like that, he was off.

He tried to draw little attention to himself, and considered pulling the hood over his head. When the hallway grew quieter, Jace ran down the stairs, twisted the doorknob, and ran outside for the life of him.

The cold hit him first. Living in New York had its perks, and the cold wasn't one of them. Jace was more of a summer guy, a guy that liked the heat way more than the cold. So, moving back had been a change, but it was much better than moving in with Robert, which was his other option. As much as he tried to deny it―and that had happened a lot more often than people would think―he loved his stepsiblings. Max reminded him that innocence was something to treasure, Isabelle taught him that being strong and brave was always important, and Alec taught him that there was nothing to be ashamed of if you were different, and that being sensitive is nothing to be ashamed of, either.

Isabelle was waiting for him inside her car. She rolled down the window. "Hurry up, you asshole. I'm not getting any younger and we have to make it in time!"

Jace ran up to the car and climbed inside. As soon as his door closed, Magnus ran out the door.

"Izzy, if you don't fucking speed away now, I will kill you," Jace said, as serious as he'd ever been.

"Here goes nothing," she mumbled, and before Magnus could reach them, they sped away, hoping they could actually find a room in the church to change in.

"So," Izzy said. "Excited to see Clary how you met her?"

Jace blinked. "What do you mean?"

"The night you met her, she was in a dress. It's kind of like that now," she said, smiling. "You know, if she hadn't come to our lives, we would've had a hell of a boring summer. And less police involvement. And . . ." She trailed off, hesitating before saying, "And maybe Mom and Dad wouldn't have gotten a divorce."

"Look," he said, "you know it's bad to say this, and I know I sound like the biggest asshole ever, but they were gonna get a divorce anyway. Things weren't working out, and when it doesn't work . . . it just doesn't. There's no point in pretending otherwise. I wish that they could stay married and be happy―but it just doesn't work that way." He tried to say it in the kindest voice he could muster. "Iz, your parents love you. You have no reason to be worried about them hating each other, because they don't. They get along, and they both love you. They just want to be free to see other people."

"You mean my dad wants to be free." Izzy's voice was bitter, which wasn't totally unusual, but it was a tone she reserved for boys who were idiots and broke her heart, and for people who insulted the people she loved. She never talked about her father in that tone. "He cheated on my mom for years, Jace._ Years_. He wasn't a man about it, either. He didn't have the pride to end it before. _That's_ what bothers me."

"Yeah, it was a cowardly thing to do. But I guess that, when you have an ideal life and a perfect family and a great wife, you don't wanna admit that you don't want it anymore, because that's ridiculous."

"Thank god my mom grew some balls and asked for a divorce," Izzy muttered. "Guess that the whole Valentine thing taught her a thing or two about saving herself from a totally fucked up marriage, huh?"

All Jace could do was nod. He hated being reminded of the thing with Valentine. It meant remembering what happened with Clary―how they took her away, and how he lay there, helpless, an idiot, unable to get his girl back. It reminded him of how easily the things you love can get taken away from your grasp with the snap of your fingers, how the things that became so familiar can just disappear.

"Sorry," she said, as if she just remembered how it made her stepbrother feel. "I didn't mean to bring it up. It was horrible, but―Jace, don't you think we're pussies about it sometimes? It was bad, and I get it. But I feel like ignoring it makes us scared of it. And I don't wanna be scared anymore."

"I've thought about it," he said. "Look, Izzy, I'd give anything to be able to forget about what happened. I don't wanna ignore it, but I just hate everything that happened. I'm not scared of that day. I'm scared of how I felt―helpless. I'm scared of what I couldn't do. And don't you think I should be? Clary's one of the most important people in my life, probably the most important one, and I lost her. Maybe not forever, but I lost her. And in that time, I didn't know if she was okay, if she was alive, if she was being beaten, if she was eating . . . I knew nothing. In a way, that was my fault, and I knew it. I just hate that feeling."

"Well, it wasn't your fault, for starters," she said, glancing at him. "I know that a lot of what happened made you feel guilty because I felt the same way. I love Clary. She's probably the only best friend I've ever had, and when I lost her, I was worried sick. But we have to just admit that it wasn't our fault. We didn't mess up, and what happened was way beyond us."

Jace only shrugged. "I guess the feeling will never go away. We're here," he added, steering the subject away from that day.

"Yes! Finally, I thought I'd gotten lost." She parked the car and both of them walked out, getting their things from the trunk and stepping inside the church. Jace hadn't been to a church in ages, so he didn't exactly know what to do. Luckily, he saw Clary before he could do anything. She was still not changed, thankfully, and looked like she'd just gotten there.

"Hey!" Clary said, walking over to him. She kissed him quickly and then asked, "What're you doing here?"

"I needed a quiet place to get ready. You know how Magnus gets whenever there's something to dress up for," Jace said with a shudder. Clary laughed, and he smiled. He missed her laugh. They hadn't seen each other in four days, but they were inseparable while they were in school, so four days felt like four years to both of them.

"Come on, guys. I'll show you where you can get ready," she said, pulling Jace by the arm and giving Izzy a one-armed hug. "Hey, Iz."

"Hey yourself, Fray. Is Lewis around?"

"No. He should be here soon, though. Wanna call him and tell him to bring you breakfast?"

"Great idea," Izzy said, taking out her phone and punching in some numbers. "Lewis!" she barked into the phone. Jace laughed and followed Clary up the church's stairs. There was a long, narrow hallway full of rooms, and she pulled him into the second one.

Before she closed the door, she said, "Iz, yours is the third!"

Isabelle gave her two thumbs up, still too engrossed in her conversation to make any sounds. Jace never thought he'd see his sister so genuinely in love with a guy. She was the kind of girl to just hook up, but no, of course the geek had to come along and change her. He kind of liked the new Izzy, although he'd never say that to her face.

"Hey, gorgeous," Clary said, pulling him to her. "What're you thinking about?"

"Izzy and Simon and how . . . weird their relationship is." He made a face.

She snorted. "I know, right? Never thought I'd see something like that happen. Ever. In my life."

Jace smirked. "At least we know dreams_ do_ come true."

"Oooh, does that mean I get to spank you while you wear a Speedo?"

Jace loved that about their relationship―it was fun, simple, and easy. And there were a lot of weird dreams. But he mostly loved that he could tell her anything and she would say something back. She wasn't just boring, like Kaelie, who only talked about herself, but she wasn't like one of his exes, Lauren, who talked about _everything_. Clary was the perfect in-between.

"Only in your wildest dreams."

"Guess we can rely on the whole 'dreams come true' thing you said, eh?"

"Well . . ."

"We're buying you a Speedo tomorrow!" Clary said in a sing-song voice, just as Izzy entered the room.

"I don't wanna know," she said quickly, shaking her head. "So my room's to the left? Just making sure."

"Yes, Izzy. And you _won't_ know."

"Not that I would ever want to. Do you _ever_ listen to me?"

"Bye now!" Clary said.

"Bye now!" Isabelle mimicked the way her friend had spoken, waved, and closed the door.

"So, Speedo?" she said.

"We'll talk about it after the wedding."

Clary went up to him slowly, kissing him as soon as their bodies touched. He fell back against the chair that, he guessed, she knew was there. If not, well . . . she had good luck, and so did his ass. She sat on his lap, moving as close to him as she could, their mouths never leaving each other. He'd missed this―the whole kissing stage of their relationship. He could kiss her forever, but they had to attend a wedding. He didn't complain when her hand explored his upper body, however, and she didn't pull back when his hands explored hers in return. She took off his shirt, their lips breaking contact for only a second before reuniting again. Jace took her jacket off, and then her shirt, and then they were both sitting, kissing like it was the last thing they could do. He unclasped her bra, and he unbuttoned his pants.

Just when she was about to help him take off said pants, there was a knock on their door.

"Clary?" It was Jocelyn. Of course it was. Sometimes, his girlfriend's mother could be a horrible person.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath. "Get dressed!" Loudly, she said, "Yeah?"

"Do you know where I put my pin?"

"First pocket in your purse!" she replied.

"Thanks, honey."

"I could kill your mother," Jace said.

"But you love me, so you won't touch a hair in her head."

"Except when I hug her to congratulate her."

"And when you say goodbye."

"And hello, too."

"And when you thank her," Clary reminded him, "for giving birth to your wonderful, lovely girlfriend."

"And that girlfriend is . . . ?"

"Very funny, Jace. Really. I'm dying on the inside."

He smirked. "Can we finish what we started?"

"My mom's getting married in two hours, so . . . no."

"Oh, come on!" He pouted.

"I love you. Trust me, there's still tonight. And their honeymoon," she said, raising her eyebrows suggestively and planting a quick kiss on his lips.

"I'm game," he said.

"Good, now let's get you ready. No offense, but you look like . . . you don't look your best," she said, remembering how sensitive Jace could get about his looks. "So, we have to get ready for my mom's wedding. And, since you didn't have sex, I feel like it's something I should do to undress you and dress you back."

"I like this idea," Jace said.

"You'll like it even more as soon as we start."

"Let me put on my shirt again."

"Deal."

###

It took them a while, but they finally got dressed.

Clary looked at herself in the mirror. I look pretty good. _Better than I thought I would, anyway,_ she thought, straightening her dress. She glanced over at Jace, who looked . . . well, it was taking all of her self-control not to fuck him right there. She bit her lip and looked away. The guy looked like sex on a stick while he wore a tux.

"I'm gonna go put on makeup. See you in a few," she said, kissing him fiercely on the lips before leaving.

Her mom was still not in her gown, and the wedding was in an hour. _Good_, Clary thought._ Maybe, if she throws up, nothing will get damaged._

"Hey," she said to Jocelyn. "I'm here to get my makeup done."

"You should wait until it's closer to the wedding," Jocelyn said. "I know you wanna go kiss the hell out of your boyfriend, so you as might as well do it."

"Okay. Be back in half an hour," Clary said, kissing the top of her mother's head and skipping back to her room.

"No change from what I see," Jace said.

"Mom said we could suck each other's faces for another half hour."

"Sounds good enough to me."

"If only," Clary said, "there was a bed."

"It's too bad we're in a church."

"Eh," she said with a shrug. "I've never been religious anyway."

At least they had something to do for the next half hour.

###

Clary's mother looked amazing.

And it wasn't the kind of amazing that women mostly achieved these days by taking off their clothes and posing for a random magazine. Her mother's dress was long, elegant, and expensive. She looked beautiful, however, in that white gown. Clary couldn't imagine how her mother could've walked down the aisle in another dress, during another time. She smiled at the way her mother admired herself in the mirror, as if she had something to worry about.

She was stunning.

As for Clary, she took a shower, got dressed again, and they were doing her hair and makeup in her mother's room. In half an hour, her mother would be walking down the aisle, and Luke would be up in the altar, waiting for her, waiting to say his vows, and ready to say yes.

"You look gorgeous, Mom," Clary said for the hundredth time, rolling her eyes at her mother's nervousness.

Jocelyn sighed and sat down next to her. "I'm just really nervous, Clary. I know I can do this, but I'm nervous. So many things could go wrong!"

"Yeah, but Luke's gonna be there to make them right again."

She took a deep breath. "I know. Okay."

The stylist patted Clary's shoulder. "You're done, Clary. I have to go get dressed. See you out there!" she said enthusiastically, giving them warm smiles.

The wedding coordinator entered the room. "Fifteen more minutes!" she said, and then closed the door, hurrying off to do who knows what.

"Mom, I love you. So trust me when I say that you'll be fine, and your nervousness will give me a headache."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the notice. I love you too. I'm glad you're here with me."

"Where else would I be?"

"No, seriously." Jocelyn sighed. "I was a terrible mother to you. I wouldn't be angry if you hated me forever, but you're still here."

"Well, yeah. I may have been pissed at you for the longest time, but you're my mom." Clary smiled widely. "Now, come on. I wanna show you something."

They walked over to where Clary's purse was, and she took out a little box. In it was a silver necklace with a heart on it. Her mother had given it to Clary when she was merely a toddler, and Clary still remembered what her mother had said.

"I'll always be with you, always inside your heart," she said, just the way Jocelyn had said it all those years ago. "Can you wear it today?"

Jocelyn's eyes shone with tears. "Absolutely."

Clary clasped the necklace around her mother's neck.

The wedding coordinator came in. "It's time," she said, leading Jocelyn down the hallway. Clary snickered at her mother's stunned reaction. Jace met her outside.

"You look beautiful," he whispered in her ear. She hadn't had time to see herself in the mirror, but she trusted what he said.

"I have to go," she said with a giggle. "Where's Izzy?"

"Way ahead of you," Jace replied. "Go look sexy out there for me, okay?"

Her only reply was rolling her eyes.

Maryse, Izzy, and Gina, a girl who was apparently friends with Jocelyn that Clary had never met, were already lined up in order. Clary fell into place behind them. The flower girl went first, and it was the daughter of the Gina person that, again, Clary had never met in her life, but she guessed her mother was pretty desperate, because otherwise she would've never dug up her yearbook to find a girl who just so happened to have given birth to a girl who wasn't too old, but wasn't too young. After the flower girl, with her tiny yellow dress, had walked over to the side, Max, who was the ring boy, stepped inside and walked down the aisle. People were looking at him, some people saying how cute he was, and how that was a Lightwood walking down the aisle, and he smirked at some of the comments.

_Just like Jace would_, Clary thought with a smile.

Then, the bridesmaids walked down the aisle. First it was Maryse, then her daughter, and then Gina. Sooner than Clary knew, it was her turn. She walked down the aisle at the beat of her music, slow and steady, and then stepped in her rightful place. The entire time, she kept subtly looking for Jace, and when she found him, he caught her gaze, mouthed you look beautiful to her, and then looked away. All people saw was a smiling girl, but they would never know that she was a smiling girl in love unless they asked. Oh, how she hated being in love sometimes. But not that day.

When her mother walked down the aisle, it was like every single person in the room stopped breathing. She looked absolutely stunning, but that wasn't what Clary paid attention to. She knew her mother would look beautiful. She helped her pick out the dress and everything. But what Clary noticed about Jocelyn, something people probably didn't, was how happy she looked. She had never looked so happy, Clary thought, not that she remembered. Jocelyn was practically glowing, smiling at everyone with a genuine smile, looking at Luke like he was the one thing in the world that completed her, the one thing that made everything right. Any other daughter would have been offended, but Clary was just happy that something came out right for her mother, and that life had proven that it gave second chances.

###

There was one thing that Clary's mother had told her, and it was the one thing that she was scared of about that day.

Walking down the aisle and standing beside her mother while she got married was nothing. She had been happy watching. Clary had never been one to love the spotlight, not really. She liked standing out, but not the way the blonde cheerleaders did or the way movie stars who won Oscars did. She liked standing out to the people who paid attention to the details.

Which was why, when her mother had asked her to give a speech during the wedding reception, Clary had been really tempted to say no.

She ended up agreeing, of course, because who was she to fuck up her mother's wedding day? She spent a lot of time on the speech, but it wasn't until she gave it her heart that it turned out right. Which was why she was scared about reading it to everyone―even Jace.

There are some things that you keep to yourself. Maybe for some people it's embarrassing moments, or the way you were the most hated kid when you were little, or maybe the way you needed physical therapy when you were little. You keep these things to yourself because they can hurt you, and it would be like giving someone a weapon for them to damage everything that makes you who you are. It's dangerous. It's risky. And it's not often worth it. But Clary's mother asked her to write a speech, and she couldn't let her mother down.

So she wrote a speech. And she cried.

When she finally stood in front of those hundreds of people her mother had invited to her wedding, all she wanted to do was run. But she _couldn't._ Sometimes, you have to let people know what you're afraid of. She sighed.

"When I was a kid, I thought my parents had the perfect relationship. Everything seemed fine. They kissed when he got home from work, and they slept in the same bedroom. But you could tell, even when you weren't looking, or even when you weren't really paying attention, that there was something missing. I didn't know what that was. I never did, not even when I stopped seeing my dad. Not until this past summer."

A few people murmured, but she continued. "This summer, I met the guy who is currently my boyfriend. His name is Jace. And at the beginning, I really didn't like him. He was everything I fought to stay away from, and he was looking for me. But then I gave him a chance. And one day turned into two, and two days turned into two weeks, and we got into a lot of trouble, and I'm not talking about the kind of trouble that includes lots of grounding because your parents caught you sneaking your boyfriend into your bedroom. We got into serious trouble, but I guess that's when you realize what love is―when you go through the hardest things in life with the person that might just be your one and only, and you realize how much they mean to you, and you realize that you have to keep going, just for them."

Jocelyn shot Clary a smile, willing her to continue. "I never really believed in love. Shocker, I know." She rolled her eyes, and a few people in the crowd laughed. "The thing about love, about_ believing_ in it, is that you have to go through it. For some people, for some very lucky people, it comes once and stays forever. But for others, those who are even luckier, it comes twice. Love isn't a thing that life gives you once it's left you. It's rare, and when you have it, it's not a happy feeling. In the movies, when you're in love, it's all butterflies and rainbows. Well, to me, it was the opposite of that. I was there when my mom left my dad―I left with her. I wasn't that old, but I wasn't that young, either. It may not have broken my heart when it happened, but it broke it later." Clary's eyes watered, but she blinked the tears away.

"When there's love, it means you have a heart. And I don't mean that you have the organ, because we all do. I mean that you have that thing that makes you capable of loving. And when you have that, and when you love someone with all of your heart, and when it makes you feel scared and anxious and like you're gonna throw up even though you haven't eaten, it means you can get your heart broken." Clary smiled through her tears, which she couldn't stop. "I've had my heart broken once. I'll never know if I was in love―maybe I was, maybe I wasn't―but I did have a broken heart. Love is a terrible thing. But it's also the thing that makes us live. It's what we breathe for, what we work for, what we come home to every day. It's what we're looking for. And let's face it, we try to be careful. But you can't love carefully. When you love, it has to be blindly and recklessly and freely, because it can't be love if you're holding back. Love will never fail to break your heart, but it's up to you and whoever loves you as much as you love them, whoever that is, even if it takes them years to come, to put it back together."

Everyone in the room clapped. Some people―most people―stood up as they did so. Clary blushed deeply, feeling embarrassed. She_ really_ didn't like the attention. She would definitely talk to her mother about putting her in the spotlight later. She avoided Jace's gaze as she sat down for her mother and Luke to do the toast.

She wasn't really paying attention. Her mind wandered off to distant places, her thoughts mostly composed of Jace. Would he totally, positively kill her for being so sappy? Ugh. Of course not. Jace was everything but an extremely judgmental guy when it came to her.

Once the toast was over, and the cake was cut, a lot of people wanted to talk to Clary. "Looks like you're a world-famous speech writer now," Jocelyn joked as she passed by her.

Clary stuck her tongue out at her mother, who laughed and joined Luke in the dance floor.

"Excuse me," said a voice behind her. She felt extremely tempted to run away, but couldn't. She knew that the person was looking at everyone on the table as he asked, "Can I steal Clary away for a few minutes?"

"You must be Jace," one of the ladies said.

"Yes, I am. And I can come talk later. Really," he said, his voice a bit forced. Clary swallowed her giggles. "But now, I wanna dance with my girl." Clary finally turned around, craning her neck to see his face. "Would you like to dance?" he asked her.

"Hmm . . ." She pretended to think.

"I'm offended." He held a hand to his chest.

"Of course I'd like to dance," she said, taking his hand from his chest and leading him to the dance floor. It was a slow song―typical. _Thank you, DJ,_ she thought bitterly._ You really couldn't have chosen a better song._

"Why are you avoiding me?" Jace whispered in her ear.

"I'm not avoiding you," she lied.

"I know you're lying. So, here I am, ready to be offended by your hurtful words as per usual. I'll take a bullet in the heart or whatever. What'd I do?"

"You didn't do anything, Jace." She sighed into his chest. "I feel so stupid. That entire speech."

"Was everything you said true?" he asked. She looked for any hint of mockery in his voice, but she only found sheer curiosity.

"Yeah. Sadly," she mumbled.

He took her face in his hands. She looked into his golden eyes, taken aback. "Then you shouldn't feel stupid. I love you, Clary. All of you. Even when you write the most incredible sappy speeches ever. Do you wanna know why everyone in this room stood up and clapped―including me?"

She nodded. She really did. Her speech wasn't even that great. Yeah, she cried while writing it, but it was because of the memories.

"They reacted the way they did," Jace continued, "because what you said was exactly what they'd been dying to say for a long time."

"But―"

"And also," he added, "because they remembered what had happened to them. They connected their memories to your words. And that's why you, Clary, are the most badass girl ever. You make people cry without insulting them. You can come in handy," Jace teased.

"Oh, shut up."

"And there's the bullet I was looking for."

Clary rolled her eyes. "You're impossible. But that's okay. You promised those women a talk. So go. Talk. I'm gonna go dance with Simon."

"You know you can't make me jealous with Simon," he said.

"Who says I'm trying to make you jealous?"

"Who else would it be?"

"Why would you think I'm trying to make anyone jealous?"

Jace groaned. "Just go."

"Love you too," she shot back, walking towards Simon and Izzy. They were deep into a conversation. "Hey, guys."

"Clary!" Izzy said, engulfing her in a hug. "That speech was so amazing!" Then, she smacked Clary's arm. "You're lucky I wore waterproof mascara."

"Ow!" Clary rubbed her shoulder. "I hate you. And sure,_ lucky._ It's not like you just hit me with super strength or anything." She turned to Simon. "Hey. Wanna dance? It's a slow song. We all know you can't dance those with Izzy!"

"Why not?" Isabelle demanded.

"He's nervous he'll step on you or something. So, come on, Si." Clary grabbed him and pulled him towards the dance floor.

"You know," Simon said, "that speech was really good."

"Thanks," she said softly.

"I mean it. I mean, I haven't seen Izzy cry so hard in forever, and that one time doesn't really count."

"It wasn't that great." Clary rolled her eyes.

"Dude, shut up. You're only saying that 'cause you hate the fact that it draws attention to you. I'm your best friend. I draw attention to you all the time. So. Does that mean you hate me?"

"Of course I do." She pinched his cheeks and giggled. "But I looooooove you."

"So much looooooove," Simon teased as the song ended. "I'm gonna go back to my girlfriend now." Clary raised his eyebrows. "We've been dating for long enough, and I figured that it couldn't go wrong to officially ask the day of the wedding. I mean, it was a given before, but now it's official." He beamed.

"Congratulations," Clary said, grinning. She hugged Simon. "Welcome to the Taken world. Talk to you later."

"You too," he said to her.

She walked over to the table where Jace was. Apparently, it wasn't the best timing ever, considering that, just as she sat down, one of the ladies asked Jace, "So, are you planning to ask her anytime soon?"

"Ask her what?"

"To marry you, of course," the lady replied, and Clary choked on her own saliva. The lady was one of the oldest ones. She looked like she was almost ninety. Where the hell did her mother find these people? Clary's eyes were still wide, refusing to meet Jace's.

"I don't know . . ." He trailed off.

"Say maybe, and I'll be happy. You two are somethin', alright."

"Like I said, I don't know. I love Clary, but we kind of like to live in the moment."

"You can't just say never, right?"

"But I didn't."

"Saying 'I don't know' is for sissies, Jace."

Clary stifled her laughter and looked at her boyfriend. He didn't look annoyed, but amused. He caught her looking and smiled, just as she did. She melted into him, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Maybe," Jace said finally.

"Someday?" Clary asked, smirking.

"Someday," he repeated softly.

And that was a promise.

* * *

><p><strong>Right. So, that's it, guys! My longest chapter so far, I think.<strong>

**Thank you to maxwaylandgrey. Even though I hate you, I really don't hate you. You and Niall Horan will make beautiful babies someday. You're the best for putting up with my crap.  
><strong>**Thanks to Tay, for being super supportive from the other side of the world. Love you!  
><strong>**Thanks to my wonderful reviewers (sorry if I get any of your names wrong!): MaxWaylandGrey (eye roll), Tay, LexiSoulsister, Violet O'Shea, bllllleeehhh (cool username! xD), Smile 4 The Day, xXxXBOTDF136XxXx, BAmbi Magenta ANn, LiveLaughDreamInspire, hawaiiangirl, 4everjace11, nithusa, livibug (you like Mayday Parade, woooo!), oheyitsme, hushhushfan101, HailingSnowStorm, daniibabii, 07XReflectional (Paulinaaaaaa!), and all of you anonymous reviewers. :)  
>Thank you for your subscriptions, follows, favorites...I love you. <strong>

**I hope you liked the story! :) xx**


End file.
